


Romance in Culpa Mansion

by Star_Fata



Series: ML: Haunted Mansion AU [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Discussion of grieving, F/M, Haunted Mansion AU, Lila Rossi Bashing, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Period Typical Attitudes, Pre-incarnation, Reincarnation, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-02 14:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21162791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Fata/pseuds/Star_Fata
Summary: Prequel to the Haunted Mansion Au on Tumblr. In which Felix, the heir and one day Master of the vast Culpa fortune, including the Mansion of the title- falls head over heels in love with a servant. Brigette Cheng.





	1. The Culpa Family History

**Author's Note:**

  * For [I_need_Coffee_and_Linkeduniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_need_Coffee_and_Linkeduniverse/gifts).

Arthur Krypte had met his beloved wife in a most unorthodox fashion, Emilie recalled to herself as she spread chalk on the floor.  


It had been her favourite story as a child. Her father had been a great traveller in his youth, collecting both wealth and artifacts from around the world. Some of the artifacts were harmless curiosities, such as the taxidermied deer head with three antlers, or the mosaic wall he had rescued from demolition- by having it transported to another continent. Others were the reason that their home, Krypte House, had so many secret passageways. 

The room she was in was known to those in the know as the spell room- and it had been where he and his sister, her Aunt Malaura, had hidden most of their magical artifacts for study. Once this had included a statue from Finland, of a beautiful woman carved in dark granite. They had been at a loss to explain why the statue was magical- unable to determine why the spells clung to the stone, why the stone could not be harmed, or even what the spells were, until one day...  


Well, the spells had broken. And the beautiful woman who tumbled into Arthur’s arms was not granite, but flesh and blood. Mirjami she named herself, had no last name. She had hidden herself as a stone statue when her mother had reported her as a witch, ensuring her statue could not be smashed or carved up, and her transformation could not be broken until such a time she was safe in the presence of another magic user.  


It had been a very long time since she had cast her spell. Malaura had volunteered herself as Mirjami’s guide to the nineteenth century, as well as the new country she found herself in. Arthur arranged for the relevant documents to be forged, as well as for Mirjami Kivi to gain sufficient financial independence that she could survive without them, should she choose.  


Mirjami Kivi had not so chosen- for she had grown to care for Malaura as a dear friend, and for Arthur as equally dear although differently to a friend. It had not been long before they wed at the local church and lived a long and happy life together. 

They had eventually had Emilie, and their family had been a happy one, before she had lost them to a flu outbreak when she had reached her twenties. It had not been wholly unexpected, even magic could not stave off the weakness of old age, and her mother had been in her late sixties. Her father and Aunt Malaura had both been slightly older. Aunt Malaura lived still and had wholeheartedly supported her in choosing not to marry except for love.  


"After all,” Aunt Malaura had said, lighting up her pipe. “It’s not like you’re in want for anything else.”  


Now, at the old age of 27, she had changed her mind. She was not in want of company, for she still had Aunt Malaura and all her visiting friends. She was not in want of money or connections, the estate and associated businesses were doing more than well enough on their own. Emilie was not even truly in need of a family, for although she supposed it would be nice to be a mother one day, she did not long for a child as some other women seemed to. No, Emilie was in want of security.  


She had always thought the food testing her parents insisted on to be a quaint tradition, some holdover from a long ago time when her father ate food in locations he struggled to communicate, or from when their family had long ago been nobility in some far flung country. However, it had been a tradition that allowed her closest companion, her maid Mary Ballard, access to the finest food, so she had continued it.  


Mary was dead now. Poison. They had no clear suspects, no clear motive- nothing. Nothing but the pervasive sense of fear that had driven her to this.  


To this room, where her father had met her mother. To where countless workings had been done, examined, and recorded. To where she in turn would now summon a being beyond her understanding, with a plea.  


"Hear me now, for a deal is offered. Demon, spirit, fae.” She began. “A bargain I have for you. A Marriage with me, for my soul. An heir for me, for my soul. Protection for me and my heir, lasting the rest of my natural life, for my soul. Do we have an accord?” Three names, thee offers, three requests.  


The fires blazed unnaturally bright and violent green, drowning the rest of the room in cavernous shadows. Across the chalk circle, a shape formed from the blackness, barely human, with glowing green eyes that measured her worth.  


Thankfully, she seemed not to be found wanting. “The offered deal is accepted, Emilie Krypte, Mistress of these lands, magician’s daughter. I accept your bargain. I will join with you in matrimony, in exchange for your soul. I will give you an heir, in exchange for your soul. I shall provide protection for both you and your heir for the rest of your natural life, in exchange for your soul at the conclusion of our deal. We have an accord.”  


She should have felt dread, at the cost of the deal. Regret, for not having found another option. Instead, all she felt was relief.  


Emilie Krypte wed Ira Culpa within the month. The promised heir joined them less than a year later.


	2. The Heir's Birth

The night after the Culpa heir was born, the new parents had bickered about his name well into dawn hours.  


“I am not naming our child Alastor.” Emilie said firmly. “I did read those demonology books before I summoned you. And the scholarly works. Our child will not be named for the so-called wickedest torturer, or sins passing from father to son.”  


“It’s hardly my fault so few of my kind have suitable names for an infant in this country.” Ira said, frowning. “It’s Alastor or Aamon really.”  


“My answer is still no. You will have to settle for him having a surname meaning “guilt”. That’s as demonic as I’ll go.”  


Ira sighed. “I should have used my true name. Then we could have called him Ira instead.”  


“Your true name is nearly impossible to pronounce for English speakers. And to native speakers of many other languages.”  


“But then our son could have been named Wrath!” Ira paused to think for a long moment. “How about Ira Junior?”  


Emilie had to look at their son for a moment as she imagined it. “But the pun doesn’t work so well for our heir.” She said wistfully.  


Ira couldn’t quite conceal a smirk at that- he had become quite fond of his current name, and the double meaning it had. Given his duty was to protect Emilie and their child, the Hebrew meaning of ‘watchful one’ was appropriate. Given his nature, the Latin meaning of Wrath was also extremely apt.  
Was it wrong to want such a good name for his child?  


“I always liked the name Felix.” Emilie said. “Will that be demonic enough for you?”  


Ira’s face twisted as he considered it. “Happy or lucky?”  


“Felix Culpa.”  


Blessed Fall.  


“Felix it is. Now, I suppose you’d best get your rest, my dearest wife. I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.” Ira picked up his sword and went to extinguish the few remaining candles.  


“Thank you, my watchful, wrathful husband.” Emilie smiled, settling herself into her bed. The only way to enter the Mistress chambers now was through the sitting room, and then through the Master’s chamber. No one would be permitted through- Ira would never allow it. Ira’s pride would never allow him to fail in any part of their deal, be it as her husband or her guard.

She slept beside the newly named Felix, secure in the knowledge her husband would _burn_ any danger out of existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been edited and differs from the Biltmore house plan. But it's a minor edit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young boy lays eyes on his future bride for the first time

Young Felix grew to have all his mother’s beauty, and his father’s ability to charm others. He truly was the best of both of them, and many people acknowledged it. None more so than Madame Malaura, who even edging out of her seventies was delighted to spend time with her great-nephew.  


“You’re the best of two worlds dear boy.” She would often say, before inviting him to read to her. Or tell her a story about his day.  


As she got older, Madame Malaura disliked trekking up and down the stairs, so she often took meals in her private rooms. Felix found he quite liked joining her, as she never said anything against him reading at the table so long as the food was kept away from the books.  


Sometimes, in the Summer when the weather was nice, they would take tea on one of the balconies and survey the land around them.  


“How were your lessons today Felix?” Madame Malaura asked, stirring the tea carefully.  


“I think they went well.” Felix said honestly. “Father says I’m good with a sword for my age, but I’ll need a lot of practice if I want to be really good. And the gymnastics room is alright, but I like swords better. Mother says she’ll have to get a tutor for fencing, because father is teaching me sword fighting instead.”  


“And your other lessons?”  


Felix allowed himself to look down from the balcony. “Mrs Mendel says I’m progressing well.”  


His eyes rested on the servant’s courtyard, just barely visible from his angle. There was a small girl on the ground, sitting with knitting needles. Even with his eyesight, he couldn’t quite tell what she was making or if she was doing well, but she was certainly focused.  


“I suppose she’d know. Still think she’s a bit young for a governess…”  


A large shape approached the girl, crouching down in front of her. She finally looked up and greeted them, her knitting falling in her lap. The man picked her up and carried her in, sunlight glinting blue on dark hair.  


“True. But Mrs Mendel was the best of those interviewed, so I suppose Mother and Father decided it was irrelevant.” Felix said, eyes absently following the man and child until the building blocked his view. “She’s agreed to stay on at the dame school when I no longer need her, so I suppose she’s a good investment that way.”  


Madame Malaura laughed, and their conversation drifted away in the wind.


	4. Ira tells a bedtime story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix learns of his history

It was shortly after this that Felix turned 10. Terrible events occurred then, that tainted the entire year. The first, was that a man had managed to get into the estate and try to kill the young Master with a knife. Thankfully, his father had been on the scene swiftly.  


As long as he lived, Felix knew he would remember that moment. The fear, the horror he felt. His father’s snarl of rage. Even the way the man had choked as Ira’s sword had run him through before Ira had discarded the intruder’s body. But what he would truly remember was the way his father opened his arms for him, and the genuine relief in Ira’s eyes, gleaming like a cat’s in candlelight.  


That terrible event was what lead to him learning of the deal his mother had made, eleven years before.  


He had always known his parents were not a love match, that his mother had been frightened and in need of a protector. He just hadn’t known the price such would take.  


“I knew what I was agreeing to Felix. I made the offer.” His mother assured him. “And I’ve never regretted it, not even when I thought he wanted to name you Lucifer.”  


His father made a sound like a trod-on cat. “I would never have named our son for the Devil!”  


“Just Alastor then?”  


The ensuing argument, more playful than wounding, did a great deal to ease his mind about his origins. The talk he had with his father, later that night, did a great deal more.  


“Will it hurt her? Taking her soul?” He’d asked, as his father tucked him in. He hadn’t needed to be tucked in for years.  


“That’s a complicated question.” His father had said, sitting down on the bed. “It would hurt her if I consumed her soul. But I’m not going to do that, I’m going to keep it.”  


“I don’t understand.”  


His father nodded. “Firstly, you need to understand two things about the human soul that are impossible for most humans to understand. The human soul is infinite in and of itself. You leave a piece of your soul with everyone you love, and everyone who loves you leaves a piece of theirs with you, yet no one is ever missing that piece because it is still their soul. Think of a soul as a reservoir, like our lagoon. Each piece is a jug that is taken away, or a sealed vial.”  


“If you grow out of loving someone, then that piece returns to you. If someone dies, that piece of your soul might return to you, or it might be with them until you join them in death, or for some time in between. It might take a while, depending on the strength and purity of your attachment to them. That’s part of the reason why we say the people we love never truly leave us. If the love is true, then part of them is with you and part of you is with them.”  


Felix nodded. It felt like the thing to do.  


“Now, the other thing you need to understand about the human soul is that it is immortal. Unending, undying. There is no way to destroy a human soul. Every soul ever born to this world is still in existence. Some may be trapped, others may have reincarnated, but every individual soul remains. The universe is a complex place, it is possible for the same soul to be haunting a place and to have been reincarnated at the same time. It’s not something you can really understand unless you study such things or have discarded humanity." 

"Going back to our reservoir- the jug full of water is poured into the greenhouse. It isn’t destroyed, it takes new form in the plants it feeds. Eventually, the water may even make its way back to the reservoir by mysterious mean- but neither the reservoir nor the jug of water suffer damaged, even in the change. And two jugs of water can sometimes be taken to different places.”  


Felix… nodded again. But with a great deal more hesitation, and the idle thought he was getting thirsty. Ira laughed. “Don’t look so concerned, you don’t need to understand the details. But essentially, your mother is a whole soul in and of herself, which she has promised to me upon her natural death. But she is also connected to every soul she has been before, and that soul may reincarnate, even if I take all of her soul.”  


“Secondly my son, you need to understand what I am. We have no names for ourselves that humans can pronounce. Some call us demons, some call us the Fair folk. You my son, need to know that we can be more like humans than we are willing to acknowledge. Like humans, we can be greedy. We seek out that which may ruin us, we hoard that which we don’t need, and we envy those who have what we do not.”  


“Your mother risked much in offering her soul. I could have consumed her soul for power, which would have trapped her with me until such time I was slain. I could have used her soul in a spell or enchantment, which would have prevented her ascension to the afterlife for centuries. My original plan in making the deal was to utilise your mother’s soul to defeat a rival of mine—but I find that course no longer appeals to me. Instead, I will keep your mother’s soul with me for as long as it will remain of its own accord. Perhaps I shall travel the world. Perhaps I’ll return to my own world and grieve for a time.”  


“Will I understand, one day?” Felix found himself asking, even as he slumped further into his pillow. He may not have understood everything his father said, but he understood enough to know his mother would not be irrevocably damaged by their deal.  


Green eyes glowed in the fading light of the fire. “Perhaps we shall begin to teach you, now you know the truth. Goodnight my son.”  


“Goodnight Father.”


	5. Madame Malaura

While the attack had been a terrible event, there were no lasting consequences beyond Felix getting a new set of lessons, these ones a great deal more secret than any others he’d had.  


The truly terrible thing that happened that year, that tainted the rest of it, was that Madame Malaura had fallen down the stairs. She had lived, but there would be no tea on the balconies unless a footman was available to carry her.  


At first, Felix hadn’t realised the severity of the damage. Certainly, Madame Malaura couldn’t walk anymore but surely they were able to provide sufficient servants that this wouldn’t a true problem? But the fall had robbed his beloved Great-Aunt of her vitality, and her confidence. Her parlour became her entire world, so she wouldn’t need to be moved so far and could enjoy the company of her friends from the other side. Now when he spent time with Madame Malaura, he was sat in the Spirit Room, despite the smell of smoke lingering for years after Madame Malaura stopped lighting up.  


She would often still be in bed in the adjoining room, drifting through a book. It took far too long, but as the years passed he began to find her sat in the best chair, chattering away to the ghosts who had made the mansion their home.  


He was glad of her improved spirits, but less glad of the whispers that started in response. Many of the servants began calling her Mad Malaura, assuming she was too lost in her head to hear them. Some of the more foolish ones said as such in front of Felix, who was all too glad to prove he could be as wrathful as his father.  


“You’re the best of both worlds my dear boy.” Madame Malaura said one day. “Your mother’s ruthlessness with your father’s rage.”  


Felix had never considered his mother particularly ruthless before, but if anyone would know it would be Madame Malaura, who had been both her governess and her companion over the years.  


“Still. No need to scare off the servants defending old Mad Malaura’s honour. Take more care in choosing your battles- I don’t mind them talking nonsense. At my age it’s not quite as terrifying as it was when I was younger, and I know your parents would never let me go into an institution.”  


Felix took a long drink of his tea in order to prevent his instinctive retort. It did matter that people were saying such things, being cruel about an old woman who hadn’t done any harm to them. That people in His Family’s employ were being so cruel about a member of His Family.  


Madame Malaura laughed, reading it on his face.  


A girl in the dark blue uniform favoured by the downstairs servants came into the room, carefully carrying a tray. There was only a plate of biscuits and a glass of water on it, but she was so focused on her task she didn’t notice Felix at first.  


“Alright Madame Malaura. The new biscuit recipe Widow Gastley passed on has proven edible, we’ll leave it to you to decide if we’ll be using it again.” The girl said in greeting. Felix blinked in confusion- Widow Gastley? “Where would you like Lieutenant Grim’s water?”  


“Just put it on the windowsill Bridgette.” His great aunt instructed. “It’ll look pretty there.”  


The girl did so without question. She startled slightly once she turned around and noticed Felix but recovered quickly enough to curtsey. “Will that be all Madame Malaura?”  


“For now.”  


Felix slipped out the door after the girl. “Wait!”  


She turned expectantly. Her eyes were unexpectedly blue as they rested on him.  


“Bridgette, right?” Felix double checked. When she nodded, he carried on. “Why did you pass on a recipe from…”  


Bridgette smiled. “Your aunt finds that the kitchens are more likely to put effort into testing recipes sent to Madame Malaura from a Widow Gastley than recipes Madame Malaura passes on from her friends on the other side. The fact she _is_ Widow Gastley is a minor detail.”  


Felix raised his eyebrows.  


“That’s not widely known.” Bridgette said. “I caught her trying to write out one of the recipes and agreed to help. Most people now know that Widow Gastley has terrible handwriting and Madame Malaura prefers for someone young with good eyes and a steady hand to copy out the important details.”  


Felix nodded. Bridgette looked like she would like to leave, but he hadn’t yet dismissed her. Still, there were still questions he felt needed to be asked. “Aren’t you a bit young to be working as an upstairs maid?”  


“I’m not. I’m a between maid, usually in the kitchens with my parents. They send me to Madame Malaura because she likes me.”  


“Would you…” He trailed off, almost swallowing his words as bright blue eyes bore into him. “Would you like to be an upstairs maid? Maybe serve as my Great Aunt’s companion?” He was aware that this offer was perhaps a bit irregular, but it was so rare to see someone outside of the family or the spirits who brought a sparkle to Madame’s eyes these days. If Bridgette was one of them then he’d gladly hire her on, and he’d pay her out of his own allowance if need be.  


Her mouth fell open. “Master Culpa. My parents work in the pastry kitchen.”  


“That was not a refusal. Miss Cheng, the truth is there’s not many people who have treated my Great Aunt with the respect she is entitled too. And I worry.”  


The tense line of her shoulders relaxed. “I think Master Culpa, that this is a conversation you should have with your family first. Please excuse me.”  


Felix took her at her word, and when the family met for dinner that night in Madame Malaura’s quarters he brought it up.  


“Bridgette Cheng?” His mother double checked. “She’s just left the schoolroom. Mendel says she’s adequate at reading and writing and should make her way up to an upstairs position soon enough, if she doesn’t join her parents in the kitchens.”  


“As proven by her copying out those recipes.” Father said. “How long has that been going on?”  


“Not long, she only started as a tweeny in June when she turned 13. She’s the one who suggested using the Widow Gastley ruse, though she didn’t come up with the name. That was all me!” Madame Malaura chipped in, watching them over her glass.  


“And what do you think of her Auntie?” Mother leaned in to hear the answer, as if they weren’t sat on adjoining seats.  


Madame Malaura stared into her glass and considered the question for a long moment while her family waited patiently. “She’s a sweet girl. Has potential for magic, but no training. Enough potential to feel something a bit odd with these rooms, but not active enough to be able to tell what. Don’t know why she believes me about my friends, but she does. That, or she’s the best actress I’ve ever seen.”  


Felix concurred. “If she was acting I couldn’t tell.”  


His parents shared a silent look, then smiled at him. “Well, if no one has any objections then I think Madame Malaura will have a new personal attendant during the day. Something like a companion. People might talk, but if the kitchens have already taken to sending Miss Cheng specifically because Madame likes her, the gossip should wear itself out soon enough.” His father concluded.  


Madame cackled. “There’s no point to living to be my age if you aren’t allowed to do what you want occasionally!”  


And so it was that Bridgette Cheng received a promotion. While other servants assisted Madame Malaura in rising for the day, Bridgette would go in and keep her company and provide for her whims. Felix was pleased to note Madame Malaura seemed brighter with a living companion to while away time with. 

There had been gossip, both among the servants for Bridgette’s surprising rise and in the village when it became known Malaura’s new companion was originally a servant as opposed to a woman of gentle birth, but as his father had predicted the gossips quickly conceded that Malaura had been strange for years, and if her family were willing to go along with her whims then there was nothing more to be said.  


One day when he dropped in to spend time with his aunt, as he’d found himself finding time for more and more often, he’d been surprised to see the spirits hovering over Bridgette’s shoulder as she stirred a cup of tea.  


“Good afternoon Master Felix.” She greeted. “Madame has taken to her siesta, but requested I leave out tea for her visitants. Is there anything I can do for you?”  


“Not at all Bridgette.” He assured her, watching the spirits warily as they took in the steam from the cup. This was unusual. New. Unheard of. Strange.  


Bridgette seemed to see nothing wrong at first- although her subtle glance at the vanishing steam showed she was at least aware of it.  


To distract her, Felix said the first thing that came into his head. “Is there anything I can do for you Miss Bridgette?” She could not have looked more surprised if he had declared his undying love for her- which was terribly unfair of her, he did try to be respectful of his servant’s needs. “I mean, you spend so much time here with the Madame. Is there anything you would like, to be more comfortable here? Something to do? Any particular snacks you prefer?”  


Watching him with those blue, blue eyes, Bridgette nodded slightly. “I would like permission to do some needlework as I attend Madame. I do enjoy her company, but I also enjoy having something to do with my hands.”  


Sewing? That was easy. Felix smiled at her for being so easily pleased. “Consider it done. I’ll inform whoever I see first on my way out.”  


Felix hadn’t actually been planning to go out that day, but if he was going to get Bridgette suitable supplies he would need to go into the village. The haberdashery shop would surely have a suitable selection- and if it didn’t, he’d at least be able to make up a list for his next trip to town. 

It was doubtful that Bridgette had much suitable for fancy work, so she was probably thinking of doing mending. That wouldn’t occupy her time for long, and his mother always said everyone should have something nice “just because”, so he would need to get decent supplies.

Perhaps an embroidery book? And not one of the cheap ones for servants, one made with good paper so she could use it for a long time, if she was so inclined.  


He had no idea what level of skill Bridgette had- perhaps he should get several and add them to the library. As Malaura’s attendant, she had permission to go there whenever she pleased. He’d just make that clear to a few people, and Brigette herself, she could go there outside of fetching things for his great aunt.  


He ended up spending more time than he cared to admit, selecting colours of wool and fabric he thought she would like. In the end, acknowledging he didn’t know the young woman’s tastes, he’d opened an account for his aunt’s companion, Bridgette Cheng. The sum he put in seemed reasonable enough, although the wide eyes of the shopkeeper implied otherwise.  


It was no matter to him. “That seems like a reasonable starting point.” He said, hoping to discourage rumours. As he walked to his horse with his purchases, Felix found he had perhaps failed horribly at that.  


It was all worth it, to see Bridgette’s reaction to the gift.  


“This is too much Felix.” Delicate hands stroked the soft wool despite herself. “But it’s so beautiful I can’t bring myself to refuse it.”  


“Good.” Felix said in rejoinder. “I haven’t the faintest idea of what to do with any of it, so I’m glad you’re willing to take it off of my hands.”  


The next time he’d seen Bridgette at his aunt’s side, she had been absently working on a scarf with the pale blue wool, and his chest warmed with the knowledge she liked it.  


He found the finished product among his birthday gifts, and wore it almost every day that fall and winter. As thanks, on his trips to town he often picked up supplies he hoped she would like, despite having only intended the supplies as a one-time gift.  


In retaliation, she would very often use those same supplies to make him a new gift. The scarf was joined by gloves, a tea cosy, and embroidered handkerchiefs every season without fail.

One day, he’d visited Madame Malaura for tea and found, to his slight disappointment, that Bridgette was absent. 

“It’s her day off.” Malaura had informed him, eyes not rising from her book. 

Felix blinked. “I’m sorry?” 

Malaura leaned back and smirked at him from her most comfortable chair. “I gave Bridgette the day off.” She said. “So she can sketch the flowers in the garden. She’s planning to try embroidering them on a tablecloth. This one is fine, but for variety’s sake I’ll buy a new one for her to decorate for me.” 

“You don’t need to do that Madame.” Felix said immediately. “I could purchase a plain tablecloth for Bridgette.” 

Malaura’s smirk widened. “I know. But I do have money of my own Felix, and little opportunity to spend it, so it’ll be my little gift to her and to me. She does do such lovely work.” A gnarled hand rose to stroke the thin shawl she was wearing. “And you provide her with such lovely material.” 

Looking closely at the shawl, made of closely knitted white cotton, Felix could just remember a purchase he’d made in town. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d bought the cotton- but he could have. It had been a fairly large order. 

“Only the best for your apartments Madame.” 

Madame Malaura tipped her head back, and for lack of a better word, cackled. 

Felix was left a little wary and slightly unsure. He tried to hide his defensiveness by pouring the tea but spilled a little. 

Malaura’s cackles grew louder as she espied the handkerchief he used to mop it up- neatly embroidered with his initials encased in a tower like the grand staircase as viewed from outside. 

It had been done by Bridgette. She had gifted to him only a few days before.


	6. A Dark Discussion

The year he turned fifteen, his family had taught him enough magic that he was declared a journeyman of the arts. And his mother had sat him down for a very important conversation.  


“Now, the magic arts are a thing of wonder when used correctly. The Krypte family have used them for over a century to improve our lives, and to destroy enemies when we felt the need.” Emilie informed him. There was a strange dissonance between the way she looked- beautifully made up, hair and clothes pressed to perfection, with her usual serenity about her- and the conversation. It had honestly never occurred to Felix that his mother could have enemies, even knowing the details of how his father had been summoned.  


“But magic is not only dangerous when wielded with malicious or violent intent. It can be dangerous when wielded duplicitously, as our magic reflects a part of ourselves we usually hide. It can be dangerous if the wrong person knows or suspects you have it. It can be dangerous if you use it in a moment of high emotion, letting it come from your heart.”  


“I thought you said that would be the most powerful magic.” Felix objected, frowning.  


“And it is.” Emilie said. “Some of the most powerful protection spells are made in such moments, as are the most bountiful blessings. And the darkest of curses. Which is why the warning is necessary.”  


Felix could have rolled his eyes. “I may have father’s blood, but that doesn’t mean I’ll…”  


His mother cut him off sharply. “It has nothing to do with your father’s blood! The High magic isn’t something you can plan on Felix Culpa. I never intended on cursing anyone, right up until I did.”  


Felix was stunned speechless. His mother crumbled, putting her head in her hands for a long, silent moment.  


“I never cursed anyone before then. And I haven’t since, although anyone who has fallen afoul of our defences might argue otherwise.” She gestured for him to come closer.  


He rose from his chair and moved to sit beside her, hesitantly taking his mother’s hand in his as she continued.  
“It’s difficult to explain my darling, but I'll have to try. Mary Ballard wasn’t just my lady’s maid. She was my most steadfast companion, one of the pillars of my world. She had no intention of marrying and leaving my service, most of her pay went to her mother and a few of her siblings who were struggling. She was content with that- I always thought that perhaps she preferred her own kind, and perhaps had a lover in the staff, but I never had any proof one way or another. Nor would I have been so crass as to have sought it out.”  


“Losing her was a blow. But it was also quite suspicious. Very few poisons act that quickly, and she was so visibly ill so very quickly that I believed at first that she was the target in the first place. It made sense, she sampled the foods in the kitchen less than twenty minutes before I was to receive my portion. This was well known among the staff, and I believed among our respective circles of acquaintances.”  


“The thought came to me late at night, and I was furious. Furious at whoever had killed her, whatever their motive was, and the sheer gall of poisoning my food, in my house, to do so.”  


“And so I cursed them, to an equally sudden death. Poison, drowning, exsanguination- I neither knew nor cared. So long as they were dead.”  
She turned to him, earnestly clapsing his hand. “The thing about high magic, the thing that everyone forgets or assumes worth it, is that it effects both parties. A spell of protection, of health, of hope- both parties benefit. For a curse, both parties must suffer. The suffering need not be equal, but they must suffer.”  


“For casting the curse, my price was to know the motive of the murderer, to see his thoughts and know exactly what he hoped to achieve and who aided him in his actions.”  


Felix found his voice. “Who was it?”  


“Does it truly matter Felix?” She sighed, before giving herself a shake. 

“Of course it does. Forgive me. It’s not something I enjoy thinking of. It was my solicitor. He hoped to convince my heir to use him as a land agent and pocket more than the agreed salary.”  


“The man who helped him put it in the food was one of my gamekeepers. He knew it probably wouldn’t reach me, given that he knew Mary would test it. But his daughter was working as a lady’s maid in the city, and he wanted her to come home.”  


“The chef noticed, but he greatly disliked both Mary and me. He thought any woman who remained unmarried out of choice was an unnatural creature. He suspected it would harm us, and he served up the food without saying a word.”  


“There were a few people who noticed something. But most of them dismissed it, because they thought well of the men. Or just thought they’d know if those men were capable of something awful, and therefore they couldn’t be up to anything that bad. As if god gave man the ability to see the hearts of the deceitful!”  


“And Felix, my darling son…”  


“I have to live with all of it in my head.”  


\---- 

“When did you cast the curse?” Felix asked eventually, having reheated the tea in the kettle and poured new cups for both.  


“The night before I married your father.” Emilie answered. “A full two weeks after we made our bargain.”  


Breathing in the steam from her teacup, she smiled at the memory. “It was probably that night that made our marriage a success. He was in the room within seconds, holding me to him so I wouldn’t fall to the floor. He cast spells, so my new maid wouldn’t hear me screaming from her room. Or crying, when the spell was over and my price paid.”  


“He put me to bed and stayed until the sun rose. When I woke up, I found he’d left a cool compress on my eyes so they weren’t too badly swollen for our wedding.”  


Emilie looked at her son, her smile warming the room. “It was that which made me realise, human or not, that this was a man I could rely on. That I could one day love.”  


Felix could only nod, sipping at his own tea. “Thank you for telling me.”  


“I didn’t mean too.” Emilie laughed slightly. “I meant to tell you to be very careful with who you let know about our family gifts. Some people you may allow to know you know about magic. Fewer people you may allow to know that you have magic. And even fewer should know the details. It can be isolating my darling. And I’ve never wanted a lonely life for you.”  


“What are you saying?” Felix asked, voice too sharp in his frustration.  


His mother smiled at him. “I am saying, that we have discussed it. Your father and I have agreed, as has Madame Malaura, that you may inform one person of your magic. You are by no means obligated to do so, but you should know that you have the option. Think on who you can trust with this part of you. And how do you trust them? Not just to react well, but to not speak of it with anyone else. To shield your secrets and guard your reputation if need be.”  


Upon leaving his lessons that day, Felix found he had a great deal to think on. He should have gone to his music room, and practiced the keys, or hidden himself away in his quarters as he considered what his mother had told him. Instead, his feet turned to Madame Malaura’s parlour. He needed the company at the moment.


	7. A Conversation

It had been a glorious summer, and his great aunt had taken to longer naps in the midday heat. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when one day, riding home after assisting in a dispute between tenants with his land manager, that he saw Brigette. 

She was sitting in the shade of the wall, working away at her yarn with a crochet hook. 

“Enjoying yourself Miss Bridgette?” He greeted, stepping off his horse. 

Bridgette looked up with a bright grin. “Master Felix! Madame told me to wake her at two and not a minute sooner. I thought it would be nice to sit in the fresh air today.” 

“And has it been?” 

“It truly has. I’ve made great progress my new shawl.” 

“Oh?” Felix’s smile grew. He had seen the results of his gifts to Bridgette before- but most often as gifts in Madame Malaura’s quarters. The thought of Bridgette making something for herself pleased him. 

She held up her work slightly to demonstrate. It was a fancier design than he would have expected her to choose for herself, with larger gaps than would be strictly practical. 

“It will look lovely on you.” He said, more honestly than he’d intended to. 

A deep blush painted itself across her face, rivalling the peonies behind her. “Thank you Master Felix. I wanted something a bit nicer than usual to wear to the party next week. Madame is looking forward to it, and asked me to accompany her…” Bridgette altered her voice slightly, clearly mimicking Madame Malaura. “Dressed as befitting a treasure of the Culpa Mansion.” 

Felix couldn’t help a smile at that. ‘The treasure of the Culpa Mansion’ was one of his father’s nicknames for his mother. 

“I’m surprised she didn’t say Krypte House.” He said, wishing to continue the conversation. “She prefers the old name.” 

A line appeared between Bridgette’s brows as she frowned. He wondered why her expression had changed, but the answer came to him before long. 

“It’s nothing against my father.” He assured Bridgette. “This place has always been the Krypte House to her. She was only just twenty when my grandfather decided to have it built, and she moved in very same day he did.” 

Bridgette’s smile had returned. “Only just twenty?” She teased. “A lofty judgement, from a man not yet sixteen.” 

Pride rose in his chest when she said ‘man’ rather than boy, although he chuckled to hide it. “I suppose it is. I’ve seen the paintings, but I still have trouble imagining the Madame as anyway but how I’ve known her. Twenty years of age seems impossibly young when I try to apply it to Madame Malaura.” 

Bridgette returned to her work, even as she continued the conversation. “I understand that. I’ve seen the paintings a thousand times, and she’s shown me her miniatures and sketches, yet I have to remind myself every time that the woman in the portraits is Madame all those years ago.” 

“You have a bit of her look.” She continued, even as Felix sputtered he looked like his father, with his mother’s fair hair. “Not much, your colouring is mostly from your grandmother, but you’ve got a pointed chin like Madame has. Your grandfather might have too, but he’s usually got a beard and a cravat in the portraits, so it’s more difficult to tell.” She stopped her work for a moment to look at him properly. “And your hands are like theirs too.” 

“A musician’s hands.” He offered. “Music is very important in the Krypte family.” 

Bridgette graciously accepted the change in the conversation. “As it is to you. That’s how you became friends with Nico, isn’t it?” 

Nico was a fairly new addition to life in the mansion- he had grown up in the nearby village and attended the school under a few matrons and Mrs Mendel. There he had shown a talent for music, so his apprenticeship as a musician had been sponsored by his mother. He had just returned from that apprenticeship to join the local assembly band, wishing to gain more experience in performing before resuming his studies. 

“Music is the primary thing we have in common.” 

“And also an example of your greatest differences.” Bridgette returned to her work, as if sensing a dismissal. 

He had not offered one- at least, he hadn’t thought he had, and so continued the conversation. “And what differences would those be Miss Bridgette?” 

“Nico’s heart is for music, while your music is of the heart. Nico is a performer to his bones, his music is a way to share what’s in his heart with the world. You can perform, but when you play it is for yourself, or for someone you care for. You would need to bare your heart to the world in order to give a great performance, and you’d hate almost every second of it. It’s not that you’re any less a musician, just that your compositions and performances are personal to you, in a way Nico’s aren’t.” 

Sometimes, Bridgette’s eyes would gaze upon him as if piercing his very soul. He had not truly thought she had, until this day. 

“An interesting perspective.” Felix said, vaguely noticing his horse growing slightly impatient next to him. “I hope we can continue this conversation another day Miss Bridgette. I wish to hear more of your opinion on this matter.” 

She looked up as he settled into the saddle, judging his sincerity. After a moment that seemed to stretch far too long, she smiled brightly up at him. “I would enjoy that very much Master Felix.”


	8. A Ball

Unfortunately he had not been able to find a quiet moment to continue his discussion with Bridgette by the day of the party, although he consoled himself that perhaps he could find a moment to join her and his aunt, and they might have that chance then. 

He had no true hope of it, but the knowledge of his aunt’s return to the social scene made him look forward to this party more than he had any other since he had first been given permission to join the balls. 

Thankfully, due to his relatively young age he could excuse himself before the final dance. In fact, his parents wholeheartedly expected him to, so as not to be exposed unduly to any drunkenness. Other than his dear aunt of course. Madame Malaura may have given up her pipe but would give up her ‘aqua vitae’ when she was in her grave and not a moment before. 

That said, Bridgette would hopefully be able to ensure that the Madame’s drinks were sufficiently watered down to avoid any truly awful mishaps. As an attendant, Bridgette would be unable to drink much herself, even if she had been of age. 

Knowing his aunt, Bridgette would get the chance to try every drink available- at least, in the watered down form his parents would provide for the very young or easily inebriated. 

Felix would be sticking to the very safe choices of mint water and apple juice. There were several young ladies in attendance, not all of whom believed in propriety as anything but a way to catch a husband. 

He’d be _damned_ if he was the one they caught- in many senses of the word. 

Thankfully, those young ladies were absent for the moment, as the first guest he greeted was his dear friend, Kasumi. 

“Master Culpa.” She greeted, with the demure curtsey expected of her. As if she hadn’t been his fiercest rival in the fencing galley for almost a decade, ever since his father discovered she was being taught to wield the blade. 

“It’s wonderful to see you again my friend.” He couldn’t help but smile at her. “How was your time away from these mountains?” 

“School was as enjoyable as ever. Nothing of great note occurred, which is just as well. Anything noteworthy would almost have to be scandalous in a girls school." 

Ah- Kasumi’s old complaint. A woman could excel- but only in her sphere. In womanly duties and woman’s work. She had never let that hold her back in their bouts but he knew the thought of one day putting aside the accomplishments she held most dearly for those society valued haunted her on occasion. As her friend, he would support her regardless. Unlike his aunt Malaura though, Kasumi’s family weren’t likely to support her in the path she most truly desired, nor was she likely to throw off their disapproval and carry on with it in any case. Unless she found a husband who would support her, she was trapped. 

“I am afraid there has been little of note happening in Culpa Mansion either, for I have little news for you.” 

"Little is not none Felix.” Dark eyes gleamed the same way they did when she spotted a weakness in his defence. 

Should he lunge in the hopes of a more advantageous position? Felix wondered to himself. Or surprise her by means of avoidance? “The only true news that I can bare to repeat is that Madame Malaura will be in attendance tonight. Although I doubt anyone else is as happy for it as we are.” 

Kasumi blinked in genuine surprise. “I thought Madame had withdrawn from society years ago.” 

“She had.” Felix said with a grin. “But as my father always warns me, people can change their minds at any time. She has Bridgette with her.” 

“Bridgette?” Kasumi’s brow furrowed as she searched her memory. 

“Her attendant, Bridgette Cheng. I believe they’re still getting ready. If you have time this evening, I would like to introduce you.” 

He couldn’t say what the look in Kasumi’s eyes was, even as she responded to him. “I have met the Madame before. But I suppose a more formal introduction couldn’t hurt, it has been some time."

Felix just barely bit back the urge to correct her, to say he wished to introduce her to Bridgette- it was entirely possible someone would take offence at him wishing to introduce his friend to a servant in his household, even if Bridgette was equally his friend.

Sadly, he couldn’t spend all evening in the company of those he enjoyed. He had to leave Kasumi in order to great other guests, and before he knew it the dancing had begun.

He still had not seen Madame Malaura- or Bridgette.

Felix had however, had the very great fortune to have met with almost every other lady at the ball. Some he had dodged politely, others were not truly interested in him, and some he greeted, if not as friends, then as friendly acquaintances. Alice Kubde, escorted by her brother Jael this evening, spared him a quick smile as he passed by, neatly interrupting their quiet argument on whatever ‘unladylike’ thing she’d done this time. 

Their father, the Preacher of the village church, was engaged elsewhere in the room. Everyone knew he’d let Alice do as she pleased until the day she’d turned 15, when he’d expected her to both comply instantly to his demand she behave as befitting a woman of their class, and for her to be grateful for his earlier latitude. She had not been, and the entire family had been engaged in battle ever since. 

Julka and Lukasz Coufray were in attendance, despite their family’s notable distaste for formality- something entirely forgivable for shopkeepers, even moderately wealthy ones. While he knew they had been invited, as befitting the children of the valiant Captain Coufray, to actually see them in attendance was unexpected. This was explained when he saw Rosa Lalueur make her way across the floor to invite Julka to dance. A few eyebrows were raised, but thankfully Julka’s shyness was well known and it was swiftly disregarded as one young girl looking out for another. 

It wasn’t until he lay eyes on Sabina Rainsdown that his suffering truly began. While she could have theoretically been invited on her own merit, as the daughter of the local Sheriff, she was holding a purse which stood out like egg yolk against the comparatively subdued colours of her gown.

Which meant….

“Feli-Bear!”

Chloris Bourgeois, whose father had purchased property nearby from the proceeds of hastily selling off his factories when he got wind of a potential change in law that supported workers rights, thus cutting into his profits- or worse, forcing him to treat his workers as if they were human beings. Chloris might be excused from her father’s practices- but given that she repeatedly complained that workers didn’t deserve rights, she generally wasn’t.

Her hand was a vice on his arm, and she was attempting to pull herself close enough to hug herself to him in a gesture of ‘affection’.

Felix quickly pasted a smile on his face, took her hand in his, and forcibly turned himself to face her. As he did so, he took a single, large step away from her, ostensibly to see her better.

“Miss Bourgeois, I haven’t seen you in months!” _And had hoped to continue that trend_. “What kept you away from our little corner of the world for so long?”_ And can you go back to it?_

Chloris giggled obnoxiously and batted her eyes, which were so thickly coated in cosmetics he could practically see the powder drifting off. “Ah, dear Feli-bear. Did you miss me?” She pouted, angling herself so he could see her from the ‘optimal angle’ he’d once heard her discussing with a painter who had ‘just happened’ to be taking her portrait on the day his family had visited. 

“There has been so much happening in Krypteyard that I haven’t had the time!” Felix assured her. “Why, just two months ago Nico, a former student from the Village school, returned from his apprenticeship in the city in order to join the local band! We will have the pleasure of his playing tonight. We’ve also hired a new clerk from the village school, Maxfield, who is settling in marvellously…”

"Urgh.” Chloris rolled her eyes. “Felix, if you think that’s what passes for interesting news, you need to travel more. That’s where Papa and I were, visiting relatives in the south.”

“Oh?” Thankfully, Chloris was all too happy to talk about herself, her experiences, and her opinions with only the slightest input from him. The real trick had been learning to tune her out just enough to preserve his own sanity, without ignoring her and accidentally agreeing with something he hadn’t meant to.

“Urgh.” She finally interrupted herself. “I thought your parents had your creepy aunt locked in the attic or something. Why is she here?" 

Felix had to take a breath, reminding himself that it would be very impolitic to yell at her in a crowded ballroom, no matter how dearly she deserved it. “My dear aunt Malaura had withdrawn from society in recent years after her fall, but she was hardly locked away. It is her prerogative to change her mind, and she did so.”

He turned to see his aunt, settled in the corner of the ballroom where a number of comfortable sofas and chairs had been placed for her. She had clearly had the seamstress remake one of her old dresses, he recognised the glorious crimson silk of the bodice, but not the embroidered black skirt. Her shawl was held around her shoulders with a brooch he knew had belonged to his grandmother Mirjami, with a black granite stone instead of a gem for decoration.

She looked to be having a wonderful time, a bright smile on her face as she listened to a few of the other guests talking away. A queen holding court, a goblet of visibly watered down brandy in hand.

He couldn’t help the smile forming on his own face, even as Chloris huffed behind him.

“She even brought the help with her. I mean, who brings a Maid to a ball?” She complained.

“Not everyone has as useful a friend as Sabina.” Felix said, hopefully with less disdain than he felt. Not that Chloris would notice either way. “Please excuse me Miss Bourgeois, I must greet my Aunt.”

Felix strode across the ballroom as he had been taught, looking straight forward so no one could interrupt him with meaningless pleasantries- only to nearly stumble when he was able to see Bridgette clearly.

Bridgette had always been pretty, with the dark hair and delicate features of her father’s heritage and eyes like a summer sky. Even in a maid’s cap and the simple grey uniform preferred by downstairs maids, she had sparkling blue eyes and a gentle smile. 

She still wore a maid’s dress, but this was one was the soft pink used only rarely by cleaning staff as it showed dirt too easily. The shawl he’d seen her knitting was decorated with darker pink ribbons, to match the fabric peony on the headband she wore instead of a cap. It also matched the becoming blush on her cheeks.

As their eyes met, his breath caught in his chest. 

Bridgette had never looked lovelier. Her eyes sparkled with mirth as she attended to Madame Malaura, a genuinely amused smile playing on her lips.

“Madame. Bridgette.” He greeted quietly as he approached. Too quietly to be heard by the majority of the guests, even those close by. “You both look beautiful tonight.”

Madame Malaura laughed heartily, whereas Bridgette’s blush deepened. “Thank you grand-nephew. I almost decided against coming altogether after all the troubles we had with my dress, but Bridgette had the excellent idea to ignore the current fashionable silhouette and enjoy what fits. At my age, fashion is something to enjoy looking at rather than to enjoy wearing.”

“That’s not what I said Madame!” Bridgette protested. “I said that if the current fashion for skirts were uncomfortable, then choose something comfortable! You would find it difficult to enjoy the ball if you spent the evening wishing to be done with it!”

“An astute observation Bridgette.” Felix nodded at her. “Father always said a woman looks her best when she feels like a queen.”

“That I do.” His father’s voice boomed out from behind him. Felix startled involuntarily, as did Bridgette and several others within his sight. “And I find it truer the longer I live.” Ira Culpa stepped forward, a sly grin on his face. “Although I daresay Madame, it helps when one also looks like a queen, as you do tonight.”

Madame laughed again, fanning herself in an imitation of flattery. “I wonder if my dear niece knows what a charmer her husband is, flattering an old woman like this?”

"I speak only the truth!” Ira said, not quite hiding the mischief in his smile. “Madame would not banish me from her court for that, would she?" 

His mother stepped neatly into the small circle they’d formed around Madame Malaura’s chair. “Do not be so cruel dear Aunt. My husband does pout so.”

Almost mindlessly his father’s hand went to rest on her back as she stood next to him. “Dearest Emilie. Do tell your beloved Aunt she looks like a Queen tonight? She will not believe me.”

Emilie reached for his other hand in order to pat it sympathetically, holding it between her own. “Both are right. My husband is entirely too charming dear Aunt, for his own good. And you are as stunning as any Queen could wish to be.” Still holding her husband’s hand, Emilie curtseyed- which caused him to bow along with her, rather than pull back.

Felix hurriedly bowed as well, to his Aunt’s evident delight.

“You’re a family of charmers!” Madame accused, not even trying to hide her delight at their ridiculousness, or her honest appreciation of their words. “And I do believe you are neglecting your guests as well!” 

Emilie smiled shamelessly, even as the small crowd around them laughed. Felix envied her grace in society. “Very well Auntie, we’ll leave you for now.” She said, stepping closer to press a kiss against Madame Malaura’s cheek. “But you do look wonderful tonight.”

When Felix glanced at Bridgette, she was smiling at them. Bewilderingly, he felt his cheeks heat up as he averted his gaze to his Aunt. 


	9. The Morning after

The day after the ball barely dawned at all, it was so gloomy. Felix found he didn’t much mind- he had had a lovely evening, even if he hadn’t managed to introduce Kasumi and Bridgette. He hadn’t gone straight to bed upon leaving the ball, but with his parents’ permission had gone to one of the secret rooms his grandfather had built in order to practice magic. 

It was his favourite room in the house, tucked away in a corner of the library. It was soundproofed sufficiently that it doubled as a music room. It was certainly more of an effort, having to keep the room himself, and getting the piano in that room had been a catastrophe of epic proportions due to the secrecy, but he enjoyed being able to practice without self-consciously wondering who was listening in to hear every mistake or flat note in the music. 

Bridgette had spoken well in the gardens; his music was something quite personal to him. Upon leaving the ball, he’d been anxious to play, the sparks of inspiration having caught in his mind. He’d barely had the patience to go through his evening routine, before quietly slipping out of his room and into one of the passageways to the library. 

He’d begun writing a new song. It was early days yet, but he thought it might end up being the best he’d ever written. 

As he headed towards the library, Felix hummed to himself, letting the tune take shape in the air. He had intended to go straight to his secret room and continue practice, until he passed Madame Malaura’s suite. 

Madame, he had been told, had stayed up though the entire ball, eating a light breakfast before retiring to her bed. She had left orders with one of her attendants, not Bridgette who had been dismissed the same hour as he had retreated from the ball, that she was not to be disturbed until dinner, if she had not awoken herself. 

So why was Bridgette carrying a tray in? 

Felix followed on cat-silent feet, sliding into the room without notice. Bridgette headed straight for the table, gently putting down the tray. 

She poured out three cups of tea, using two different varieties of leaves in tea strainers rather than having the leaves brewed in the pot. To one she added a single lemon slice, to another a tiny spoon of honey from the pot Madame kept on the table for one of her friends. This done, she went to the windowsill in order to pour out the glass of water there into a bucket, then replaced the glass with a fresh one. 

Madame preferred her tea with a splash of milk. None of those teacups were therefore for Madame. 

“Did Madame ask you to do this?” He spoke quietly, so as not to alert Madame next door. 

Bridgette started so badly she spilt most of the water in the glass. Hissing (very quietly, with a side glance at Madame’s door), she pulled a rag out of her apron and began to try mop it up. 

She was wearing pink again, possibly the same dress as the night before but without the decorations. Her hair was once more covered by a cap, but she still looked very pretty. 

It took a moment for Felix to realise he could help her mop up the water rather than just wait for her to be done. He wiped the water off the wooden table as best as he could with his quickly sodden handkerchief, wringing it out into the vase of flowers to continue as best as he could. 

Bridgette quickly stopped him. “You’ll ruin your hanky.” She breathed out, stepping closer so he could hear. 

His ears burned. “It’s not one of my favourites.” He said back, just as quietly. 

They soaked up as much of the spilt water as they could before leaving. Felix gently shut the door behind them, aware of Bridgette glaring at him. 

“You startled me!” She hissed at him, still keeping the sleeping Madame Malaura in mind. 

Felix smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to, I was just curious about what you were doing.” 

He gestured towards the library, and they began walking. “I didn’t think Madame Malaura left any instructions except not to wake her up before dinner.” 

Bridgette shrugged uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “She didn’t. But those are the usual orders for her friends, and the room always feels a bit happier once I’ve delivered.” 

“It… feels happier?” Felix repeated. He had no idea Bridgette’s potential for magic could allow her to sense such a thing. He could see the spirits, their reaction to the offerings provided, but perhaps Bridgette’s unawakened magic allowed her to put together clues she couldn’t fully recognise as a sixth sense of sort. 

Bridgette flushed a brilliant red. “I know it sounds mad. But it does, and it doesn’t hurt anyone. Those brands of tea are only used by Madame Malaura’s visitants, and she has honey especially for Frau Syvestra. Lieutenant Grim likes having clean water on hand, but one glass of water isn’t a real difficulty. Not normally, anyway.” She shot him what was probably meant to be a scolding look, but he was too distracted by the possibilities in his mind to notice. 

He had permission from his parents to bring in one friend. To teach someone else about magic. 

“Is today a day off for you?” Felix asked eagerly. 

A look of startlement settled on Bridgette’s face. “Yes. I would usually go outside but..” She gestured to the windows. 

Felix nodded. “What were your plans for today?” 

“To help in the schoolroom I suppose. Mrs Mendel can always put another set of hands to work, and there’s a few children who live near enough to attend school no matter how bad the rain gets.” 

Felix, for one wild moment, considered what he was about to do. He could walk away not, take the time to consider if he wanted to do this. 

He pushed ahead anyway. “Would you like to know a secret?”


	10. A Secret Shared

Bridgette hadn’t known about the secret room in the library- not for certain. She’d had her suspicions, given the few occasions she’d known Felix to have disappeared into the library and yet not seen hide nor tail of him when she herself had been there, but she still found herself surprised as he led her into what appeared to be a private study. 

“Father calls this my chamber of music.” Felix explained, eyes fixed on the door as he closed it. “I prefer to play here, rather than in the music room where anyone passing by can hear me.” 

Bridgette frowned in confusion. “And no one can hear you in here? Not even in the library?” 

“No. It’s a _special_ room.” Felix said, waving his hands as he emphasized the word ‘special’. 

Bridgette hummed in acknowledgement. “So, a special and secret room. Where no one can hear you from the outside.” Stepping forward, she began a circuit around the room. “What an interesting way to describe your practice room.” She teased gently, turning back towards him. 

His returning smile was a little sheepish. “And now that you’ve repeated it to me, strangely ominous as well.” 

They both laughed a little at that, breaking the strange tension that had slipped over them as they’d walked into the room. As the laughter faded, Felix sat down at the piano, putting aside his in-progress composition in order to retrieve a different one. 

“I think your name is more accurate than my father’s. This is a practice room.” Felix visibly took a deep breath to steady himself, then his hands flew across the keys and he played. 

Bridgette opened her mouth to ask what song he was playing- but words failed her as she noticed the slight glow around Felix’s hands. The song went on, and the glow spread until it covered all the keys, and spread further still until all the piano was aglow, like candles on a dismal day. 

Felix paused in the song to meet her eyes. She stared back, serene as a still lake at twilight. He took another deep breath- and then 

For lack of better words 

The light _Erupted_

All the room was _Shining_. If the light earlier had been akin to candles, this was a bonfire. This was all the stars in the sky, come to dance upon the earth on Felix’s invitation. The lone harp in the corner, and the instruments on the wall- the violin, the guitar, even the flute- rose slightly from their display and accompanied Felix’s tune, the sound swelling so that there was no natural way that the music could possibly be contained in one room. 

Eventually, Felix reached the finale- and the light spun around her as it faded, sparkling, into the air. 

There was a single moment of silence, as the room returned to how it was. Seemingly ordinary, except for an oddly pale Felix sitting at the piano, his eyes fixed on her even as he visibly restrained himself from looking away. 

“That.” Bridgette began, her voice unexpectedly loud. “That was _beautiful_.” 

Felix started, and his whole face flushed with colour. “Really?” He squeaked. 

“Really.” Bridgette affirmed, smiling at him. Gradually, he began to smile back. 

“Would you… would you like to learn?” 

“Could you teach me?” 

“I’d love to.” 

“Then yes. But not today.” Bridgette decided, delighting in how Felix’s grin turned him from the young Master of the estate into a boy only a little older than herself. “I think we’re both too tired to begin any lessons today. It’ll be better if we start when we’re both fresh.” 

“Of course. But since neither of us has plans today, maybe you could stay with me? I was just planning to work on a new piece” Felix suggested, grin softening. 

“Of course.” She agreed. “I’ll go fetch my sewing basket.” 

She did so, and they stayed in that secret room as the sky grew ever darker, lighting the beeswax candles so they’d have enough light to see by. Bridgette had put down her embroidery in favour of listening to Felix practice, eyes drifting closed as the sound washed over her. 

At a distant sound, almost on the edge of her hearing, she opened her eyes again. Everything seemed fine, Felix was running through what he had written so far, listening as intently as he was playing. The candlelight made him seem almost ethereal as he picked his way through the piece, but the intensity made him as far from serene as could be, he was entirely too _focused_. 

He must have sensed her eyes on him, because he glanced up and met her gaze. 

Thunder sounded. 

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to sneak in a tribute to Mystic Manor. Just because it's a Haunted Mansion Story and I think I've seen all the videos of the various HM's and equivalents five or six times when I first started plotted these stories an entire two weeks ago.


	11. Felix has tea with two dear friends

Felix found Bridgette had a natural talent for magic, beyond his wildest expectations. She may not take to structured spells as easily as he, but she had a natural talent for imbuing magic in her creations. This he had suspected for years, having worn several of such, but he had never thought she could focus her innate magic in such a way as to choose what properties the items would have. 

In addition to the scarves to keep him warm, he now had an embroidered ribbon that would alert him to intruders in his rooms (for a given value of intruders- it showed the names of anyone who entered when he was elsewhere), as well as a good luck charm that cooled if he was near someone of ill intent. Ill intent could be quite nebulous, but it was best to be vague about these things. A ward to warn of murderous intent wouldn’t alert one to a beating, and one to warn of thieving intent wouldn’t warn of a malicious prankster. 

Sadly, they could only steal away an hour or so here and there, and that with Madame Malaura’s help. His studies and duties as his mother’s heir kept him away more often than he’d found ideal, and Bridgette had her own duties and circle of friends that kept her occupied, no matter how often Madame took to sending her off to learn from Felix. 

He had friends of his own- Nico, the musician his family had sponsored to study in the city, Kasumi, and a few others who were the offspring of local notables. But sometimes, no matter how busy he was or who he was in company with, he found himself wishing Bridgette was there too. 

It was this which lead to him inviting Kasumi to tea with his great Aunt, on a day he knew for certain Bridgette would be working. 

He was certain it would be a wonderful day, especially when his father stated his intention to join them. His mother made her excuses, having been a little tired lately she decided to rest in her own chambers rather than attend tea. 

“Kasumi! Thank goodness you’re here.” He greeted, unable to help the wide smile he bore. “I can finally introduce you to my good friend Bridgette.” Bridgette stood from where she was sat next to Madame Malaura. “It’s an honour to meet you, Miss Kasumi.” At Kasumi’s frown, she spoke quickly. “I’m sorry for my forwardness, but I didn’t catch your name.” 

“Kasumi Ken.” Kasumi replied, nodding her head in barest acknowledgement. “Bridgette.” 

With a slight grimace as she tried to smile at Kasumi, Bridgette sat back down and returned to her needlework with almost comical intensity. 

Felix frowned at Kasumi- who was, of course, immune. But she did sit down herself with no further awkwardness, so there was that. 

Conversation was stilted, as Kasumi eyed Bridgette. He hadn’t been aware she would think so lowly of inviting a servant to this gathering, else he would never have subjected Bridgette to this. Or himself, for that matter. 

Nevertheless, both his father and great-aunt seemed to be in fine form. 

“How has your mother been Bridgette?” Ira asked, eyeing the sweets stand far too cunningly for a man meant to be the master of the estate. “I heard she’d taken ill.” 

“A temporary ailment sir. She returned to the kitchens this morning.” Bridgette said quietly. 

“I hope she was fully recovered.” Kasumi interjected. “It wouldn’t do for someone else to fall ill if she was anxious about her wages.” 

Felix scowled. “That would be unnecessary Kasumi. We do not penalise our staff for trifling illnesses. In any case, we find it better to give time off for recovery rather than have them work through it.” 

“Your family is certainly generous Felix. You must take care not to be taken advantage of.” Kasumi mused allowed, eyes fixed across the table. 

“It was my brother’s policy Miss Ken.” Madame Malaura broke in. “And with a little care, it’s worked quite well. There’s only been two servants in all our years here who attempted to take advantage, although there have been a few we had to let go due to excessive ill health.” 

“With generous pay outs.” Ira added on. “My dear wife has often found them less strenuous work where she can. We can’t help the body we’re born in, but it is so inconvenient when it gives out.” 

“True.” Malaura sighed. “I never thought I’d be like this when I was a young girl. I had vagues plans on dying the moment I could no longer dance every other dance at the assemblies.” 

“Did you enjoy dancing so much Madame?” Bridgette’s eyes sparkled as she asked the question. 

“I utterly adored it, even after I lost my Barty. Mirjami and I would dance together for hours, as Arthur played for us.” Malaura answered warmly, much to Kasumi’s surprise. 

“The piano?” She enquired. 

“Sometimes, but he preferred the cello.” Malaura’s eyes were distant but fond. “He used to get so lost in the music he’d be surprised to look up and find us still there. I often thought that if had looked up more often, he and Mirjami would have begun courting months earlier than they did.” 

“I hear long courtships run in the family.” Ira smirked. 

“With obvious exceptions.” Malaura shot back. 

Both Kasumi and Bridgette had to muffle laughter. When their eyes met again, the tension in the room had lessened. For that alone, Felix decided his father could have the cream tarts he’d been pretending not to eye up since he’d sat down. 

Even if they were _his_ favourite too. 

Eventually, the conversation drifted to accomplishments. 

“I think I’ve read about this.” Ira mused allowed. Malaura, wise to his father’s sense of humour, burst into giggles before he could continue- but alas, continue he did. “_A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing and the modern languages, to deserve the word_.” 

Felix groaned. “Father, really?” 

“Pride and Prejudice is a delightful novel Felix.” He responded. “I see no sharing the author’s wisdom with the world!” 

Kasumi hid a snort behind a fan. “I would hardly count Caroline Bingley as a font of wisdom Sir!” 

“A very fashionably accomplished woman of her day.” Bridgette said agreeably. “But not a wise one certainly.” 

Kasumi favoured the other girl with a smile, even as Ira faked outrage. “I must admit that while I enjoyed Austen’s novels, I found her heroines difficult to relate to. The only one who had any athletic achievements was Elizabeth, and walking is hardly a difficult skill to cultivate.” 

“Perhaps the author didn’t feel she could do more physical pursuits justice.” Bridgette contemplated. “Her family were not exactly flush at the best of times, and she was said to be a frail child. She likely never participated in horse riding, let alone other sports.” 

Kasumi shrugged. “I still think it’s a shame. All those country girls, and not a decent rider, archer or falconer among them.” 

“I find writers are just another type of artist.” Said Madame Malaura. “With all the dramatics of an Artiste, difficulty finding inspiration or struggling with their chosen medium, and the difficulty in determining the worth of their work when they can see every flaw or difficulty they encountered in the making, while the observer sees only the final product. With that in mind, perhaps the author simply found it easier to put the enjoyment she found in writing to her character’s hobbies.” 

“I am proficient in painting and music, but I would not deem myself an artist as you describe them.” Kasumi said. 

“True. Your work is lovely, but you take no joy in it.” Felix spoke. “You’re at your best with a sabre in hand and an opponent across from you.” 

Kasumi flushed- and was that a groan from his father? 

Malaura spoke up before he could do more than eye his father in confusion. “As someone who enjoys both music and physical pursuits Felix, what would you say is the difference?” 

Felix blinked rapidly. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t even know where to start Madame.” 

“I suppose…” Ira pretended to be thinking aloud, but no one was fooled. “That in order to get an answer, we’ll have to either teach Kasumi an art she likes, or Bridgette a sport she’ll enjoy.” 

Kasumi’s lip curled at the thought, while Bridgette froze like a cat caught stealing fish. The wide eyes only added to the picture- if she’d had cats ears, they’d be laid flat on her head. 

“Interesting idea Father.” He said dryly. “But I doubt either of our guests today have so much free time they’d want to waste it in such a manner.” 

“It could be interesting.” Kasumi corrected him, with a glance at Bridgette. “I could teach you to fence.” 

Clearly despite herself, Bridgette brightened. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to teach you anything in exchange, as I daresay you’ve more practice at embroidery than I have at present.” 

“Understandable, given our different educations. Nevertheless, I think the experiment would be worthwhile.” 

“We’ll have to set up a time. When are you free Miss Ken?” 

As that conversation drew to an end, Felix felt that perhaps he’d missed something.


	12. Growing Friendship

Kasumi had been teaching Bridgette fencing once a week for over a month when Felix found himself trailing to the fencing gallery in the hopes of seeing them both. Perhaps he could be of assistance, aiding Kasumi in the demonstrations?

But as he approached the room, his sharp ears didn’t catch the sound of practice. It appeared his friends were instead, talking.

“It’s obvious you’ve no training in fencing Bridgette.” Kasumi’s voice drifted out to him. “Or you’d know the biggest mistake a fencer can make isn’t choosing the wrong technique. It’s choosing the wrong target. To be blunt, I am strongly advising you to change targets.

Bridgette’s reply was almost a growl. “Let me be blunt then, Miss Ken. You are accustomed to competition and your family’s wealth. Getting what you want is simply a matter of deciding you want it and pursuing it, and you will either succeed or fail on your own merits. That is not so for someone in my position.”

“Then why pursue it at all?”

“I am not! You confuse admiration with pursuit, yet people are always prone to admiring that which they cannot have. Impossibility isn’t a factor in such feelings, although the wiser among those who admire the impossible should take note of that in their actions.”

Uncomfortable with what he assumed to be a private conversation between two ladies, Felix decided against joining them in the fencing gallery and instead moved to the gymnastics studio.

That night at the dinner party his parents were hosting, Brigette, in her becoming pink dress and wearing a rose quartz necklace Madame had bought for her, was sat next to Madame as usual- much to Chloris Bourgeois’s irritatingly vocal disgust.

Everyone else attempted to ignore her, even as Bridgette’s colour rose in a mix of anger and humiliation. Madame was eyeing her drink as if wondering how it would look on Chloris’s dress, and Felix was about ready to snap, gentleman or not.

“I find Bridgette’s company is infinitely preferable to that of the yapping dogs that I find to plague society.” Kasumi broke in, voice pitched to be heard. “She has intelligent conversation and pleasing manners, which is more than some of the nouveau riche can boast.”

Chloris squawked in outrage, even as titters spread across the table.

Felix was pleased to note that Bridgette’s grateful smile at Kasumi was returned with a conspiratorial wink that only brightened Bridgette’s mood further. It was good to see that they were becoming good friends.

His happiness only grew as Bridgette and Kasumi entered into a discussion of the different types of needlecraft there were, and Kasumi admitted she had only tried the noble arts of embroidery and tatting, in the past.

“Intricate arts that demand a great deal of attention from a young lady.” Bridgette acknowledged. “But not necessarily the best for every young woman. Perhaps we should try knitting. It’s not the most valued art, but it is something to do on a winter evening.”

“I suppose we may as well try. It would be nice, to enjoy making something with my own hands. I find the only part of embroidery I enjoy is putting it away.”

Another guest broke in, saying she had always felt the same way, and laughter rumbled over the guests near enough to hear. Over the course of the evening, Chloris’s snobbish remarks were forgotten as Kasumi and Bridgette worked together to ensure Madame had a good evening.

Felix found it may have been the best dinner party he’d ever been to, even with his mother looking paler than usual.


	13. Bridgette's Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3rd chapter posted today! Hopefully only two more to go.

Knitting had been alright, Bridgette thought to herself. But Kasumi had taken to crochet unexpectedly well for a woman who professed no joy in needlework. Her first creation, a mostly perfect shawl, had been gifted to Bridgette, who gladly wore it as the days grew cooler. 

Every time Kasumi saw it she grinned, even as she told Bridgette she wasn’t obligated to wear it. There was plenty of opportunity for Kasumi to see it, as in the colder months Madame’s ‘siesta’ moved into an afternoon nap almost every single day, and Kasumi had made visiting Bridgette at that time as often as she could a priority. 

Part of it was the draw of the Culpa Mansion’s heir, undoubtedly. Felix did pop in, on occasion, and even if he didn’t there was always the chance Kasumi would pass him in the halls and have the chance of a quick conversation. Part of it was the opportunity to teach Bridgette more fencing, as Kasumi said that she may one day ‘prove to be a challenge’. But Bridgette liked to think that it was partly because, after all the time spent together over the years, they were actual friends now. Of all the people who were aware of her most precious secret, held close to her chest and cherished, Kasumi had been the only one Bridgette had almost admitted it to in words. 

Not that that stopped her other friends from knowing… 

Bridgette shook her head at the memory of her last conversation with Alma. 

Alma had become her best friend when they were both 13, Bridgette still in the schoolroom and not yet employed. Alma’s mother was a new cook for the mansion, while her father and sister had joined the staff as groundskeepers. 

They had been joined at the hip for months- but then Bridgette had entered service, while Alma… hadn’t. Instead, she’d stayed home at her parent’s behest, until her youngest siblings could be trusted to enter the schoolroom. 

That had made being friends a bit more difficult, but it was Bridgette’s promotion that had made Alma’s jealousy rear its ugly head. Companions were usually relatives, or at least gentlewoman who had fallen on hard times and were forced to seek roles in service- and while they had fewer privileges than a gentlewoman would usually expect, they were still slightly above the servants. Bridgette’s pay was significantly improved from her days as a tweeny, and her working hours had actually decreased a fair bit as well, even before Madame Malaura’s naps were taken into account. 

Alma had tried to be supportive, but she still didn’t understand what Bridgette, of all people, had done to deserve it. Brigdette didn’t really know how to tell Alma that she had helped Madame trick the kitchens into genuinely trying out recipes she got from her spirit friends, so she’d been vague about Felix catching her delivering tea and talking to her afterwards. Alma had not been impressed, they’d had several fights in those first few months. 

Things had settled over time- until she’d escorted Madame to the ball. And started spending time with Felix during her time off. Alma had gotten worse once she’d realised Brigette’s secret- that no matter how precious Felix’s friendship was to her, her heart yearned for more.

Kasumi had wanted to protect Felix, and so had sought to cull Bridgette’s feelings. As difficult as it was sometimes, Bridgette wanted to believe that Alma wanted to protect her the same way. 

Still, she found these days she much preferred Kasumi’s company. Bridgette smiled as the lady in question arrived on the balcony over the winter garden, where Bridgette sat with her own work. 

“I can not wait to show you what Felix bought for me.” Kasumi said flatly- but Bridgette could see the laughter sparkling in her eyes. 

“Then by all means, don’t.” She was curious about what could cause such a reaction. 

“Only if you show me his gift for you first, so that we might compare.” Kasumi bargained. “And don’t demur, if he bought a gift for me he bought for you too.” 

Kasumi didn’t even sit down in the opposite chair, just put her bag on the table and brought out a box. Bridgette instead reached for her sewing bag and took out Felix’s latest gift to her- a beautiful pair of silver embroidery scissors, white enamel handles painted with delicate pink roses. “I believe it’s part of a set. He gifted me a matching thimble too, which I’ve put in a safe place.” 

“Too pretty to lose?” Kasumi guessed, laughing when Bridgette nodded. 

Kasumi then passed Bridgette the box, watching intently as Bridgette opened it to reveal what appeared to be a crochet hook of multiple shades of blue twisted within the glass.

Bemused, she picked it up to examine it more closely- there was the barest bump where the hook should hold the wool. 

Barely holding back laughter, Kasumi watched her with her hands clasped in front of her mouth. Bridgette, fairly certain of what was going to happen, decided to try a single stitch with the hook. 

As the wool slipped neatly off of the glass, no stitch made, Kasumi lost her composure, her laughter ringing out into the Winter Garden. 

“I suppose it’s the thought that counts.” Bridgette said dryly, putting the beautiful but utterly useless hook back into its case. 

“True.” Kasumi nodded, giggles fading into a sly grin. “And I will treasure it, honestly. Though I must admit I have no idea what _else_ I could do with it!” 

This time when she succumbed to laughter, Bridgette followed guiltily. 

\-- 

When she met with Alma the next day, on one of her rare days completely off, she thought wistfully of the laughter she’d shared with Kasumi before they’d settled down to work on their own projects and enjoy the afternoon sun shining through the glass roof. 

“Now, you know I’m just saying this because we’re friends, right Bridge?” Alma doublechecked. 

“Yes Alma.” 

“Good. I’m not saying you’re not amazing, I’m saying he’s the young Master and no matter what they say your job is, you’re a maid.” Alma said- _again_. 

“I know this Alma. I’m not going to tell him. Or pursue him. I’ve had this conversation far too many times as is.” And she had honestly preferred it from Kasumi, who at least was Felix’s friend at the time, not hers. 

“I’m looking out for you! And you need to do more than just not tell him. You’re kind of obvious, everyone knows anyway. What you need to do,” Alma was just warming to her topic, Bridgette could tell. “Is avoid him altogether. Let the feelings die out. There’s a lot of good men around, and maybe some of them would be interested if you weren’t mooning over the Culpa heir so blatantly.” 

“I am _not_ mooning.” Bridgette bit out, genuinely hurt at the accusation. She thought she’d done better to hide her feelings than that, tried to keep in mind that Felix was a wonderful friend and not hope for more, never letting herself dream of maybes or somedays, and she tried not to let herself get caught up in the moments they shared out of sight in the practice room. 

Alma waved a hand in dismissal. “Certainly, whatever you say Bridge. I’m just letting you know you have options.” 

“Options I won’t take.” Bridgette said firmly. Even if Felix hadn’t been a good friend, or he hadn’t been teaching her magic for the past two years- avoiding him would be difficult, unless she was willing to risk upsetting Madame Malaura. Or losing her job. That was a risk too. 

Alma just sighed at her perceived stubbornness, glancing down the street of Krypteyard, the village built specifically to provide homes for the workers on the estate so many years ago by Arthur Krypte. 

“Is that a new carriage?” She asked Bridgette, shading her eyes to see. 

Bridgette looked the same way- it was an elegant carriage with an enclosed roof and curtains of rich fabric at the windows, and some form of cushioning for the driver. So the owners were wealthy, ruling out Preacher Kubde’s family. She couldn’t quite make out the crest, but it wasn’t the Krypte family crest or the Culpa’s version of it. In theory it could have been a new acquisition of the Bourgeois, but she couldn’t see any gold gilt. 

“It certainly appears to be one. I wonder who it belongs to.” She answered Alma. 

“Wonder no longer.” A voice broke in from behind them. Startled, they turned to see a woman their age step out of the apothecary’s. She was lovely, of clear Italian descent with eyes a poisonous green. Her dress was of fine quality, and a bright orange colour that was well beyond a servant’s means. 

Both girls curtseyed immediately. “Ma’am.” 

“No need for that.” She waved at them. “I’m Delila Ross. My father and I are visiting friends in the country and decided to explore this beautiful area.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Ross.” Bridgette spoke first. “Have you had the opportunity to tour the Mansion yet?” 

“That’s our next stop. For tonight, we’re settling into our rented house down the hill.” Delila Ross answered, smiling. “We’re greatly looking forward to making the acquaintance of the Culpa family. One hears such stories.” 

Alma nodded. “And with the Culpa’s, who knows what’s true?” 

“Alma!” Bridgette scolded, before turning back to the newcomer to the area. “I hope you enjoy your time here Miss Ross. Hopefully you can make the acquaintance of the family soon.” 

“Do they not greet visitors?” Miss Ross asked, head tilted. 

“No.” Alma said bluntly. 

“Not tours, the estate draws so many that instead of the housekeeper taking people around the Mansion has designated members of staff for the tours.” Bridgette added hastily. “Although if you’re staying in the area you’re likely to meet a few members eventually.” 

Delila’s Ross’s smile was sharp. “I look forward to it.” She said. 

They parted ways with Delila then, continuing with their own browsing. And sadly, with their earlier conversation. 

“Rich, beautiful, well-mannered and graceful.” Alma pointed out. “That’s the kind of woman he’ll marry you know.” 

“I hope not!” Bridgette spoke without thought, but it was true. For all of Delila Ross’s evident beauty, her courtesy- Bridgette felt she had disliked her on sight. She had no reason for it, no evidence as to why. But she still felt she’d rather Felix marry Kasumi. Or even _Chloris Bourgeois_. 

Alma sighed in clear disappointment. “Jealousy, really? You’re lucky I love you so I’ll ignore that for today.” 

Was it jealousy? Bridgette wondered. It hadn’t felt like the sinking feeling she got when she pictured Felix’s future wife, watching him play piano or read a book in those quiet moments of intimacy that were hers for now. 

It felt like someone had walked over her grave. 

\-- 

She didn’t mention having met Delila Ross, not to Felix that evening when they met for a lesson, not to Madame the next day when she returned to work. 

But she told Kasumi that she hoped Felix wouldn’t marry Miss Ross. 

“The Italian visitor?” Kasumi asked, lunging with her sabre. 

Bridgette dodged neatly. “I don’t know why. But I hope he marries someone more like you instead, if he’s fool enough not to marry you.” 

Kasumi smiled at the compliment but did not let up on her barrage. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking lately that perhaps I had chosen the wrong target. Hopefully our dear friend realises his own errors in judgement in time…” She made a face, even as she soundly won their bout. 

“In time.” Bridgette agreed grimly. Mrs Culpa’s bouts of tiredness were worsening as the weather grew cooler, and her skin had the greyish undertone of the very ill. Worst of all, not that she could tell Kasumi, was that Madame Malaura’s spirits had steadily grown in number as Emilie had worsened- ready to guide a new member to the other side. 

Bridgette had been the one to write the letters on Madame Malaura’s behalf, inviting various members of the Krypte family to say their goodbyes. 

It didn’t bear thinking about- so for the moment, Bridgette and Kasumi returned to fencing.


	14. An Inkling

Delila Ross was pretty, Felix supposed. From her hints, he knew she was interested in pursuing a courtship with him, as was most of the staff and the nearby village. 

As a White Witch, bound by oath to never use her powers to harm innocents on the pain of losing her gift, she could be quite helpful to have around. It would be convenient, to have a wife who already knew of magic and had her own talent in it. 

In addition to her magic, she was of suitable status to marry into a great estate, even if she was a foreigner. Given his father, grandmother, and great-grandfather, he couldn’t say her origins were a disadvantage without insulting his own background. 

But, however lovely and suitable she was, however helpful she could be, and was indeed being in the community, he didn’t desire her. He found her forwardness off putting, but he couldn’t quite articulate the reasons why as he admired it in other woman seeking out romances. 

Then again, those other woman were not usually seeking romance with _him_. Perhaps he just wasn’t ready for such a thing, with her mother’s fading health and the corresponding delegation of her duties to him. 

He was lucky to manage to scrape out time with Bridgette, even though he was often too tired for lessons. Instead, he would read and she would either join him or work on her own activities in the same room, sometimes humming to herself as she did so. 

The quiet time with her was a balm to his soul. But he couldn’t be greedy with her time, she had lessons with Kasumi and her duties to Madame Malaura, which had now expanded to arranging the descent of the Krypte family upon his family home. 

He had nothing against his many and varied relatives, save the fact that they were many and varied and he found them easier to deal with through correspondence, or else in small groups. Still, his mother looked forward to seeing them and that was what really mattered. 

If necessary, he could barricade himself in the practice room and hope Bridgette would take pity on him and ensure he was fed. 

“Now, what’re you smiling at?” Nico’s voice broke into his thoughts. 

Felix hadn’t realised he was smiling but felt his face fall into a more neutral expression. “Nothing of note Nico. What was that you were saying about the choir?” 

Nico ignored that. “Would you have happened to be thinking of a certain lady of your acquaintance?” He said teasingly. 

“Not… entirely.” Felix admitted. “She was tangential to my thoughts though.” 

“Ha!” Nico slapped his knee. “And I thought the rumours were a load of bunk, but here you are!” 

“Rumours?” Felix frowned, suddenly suspecting he and his friend were having different conversations. 

Nico looked at him, both fond and exasperated. “Sometimes, you say something and I’m certain you live in a different world to the rest of us.” He said. “The rumours, about whether you’re going to make the lucky lady the next Mrs Culpa!” 

“_What?_” 

“Yeah. A lot of people are wondering if you two are going to make something official before…” Nico trailed off awkwardly. 

Felix blinked in confusion. “But I’m not courting anyone!” 

“Everyone knows you two are interested.” 

Him? Interested in Bridgette? The thought was not… unpleasant. And when he thought of Bridgette, one of his dearest friends, being interested in him… 

“See?” Nico gestured at Felix’s suddenly hot cheeks. “You’re both terrible at hiding it. I know the timing’s off, but no one would say anything if you and Miss Ross start courting now.” 

_Oh_. Felix slumped in disappointment. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken my intentions.” He said. “It was not Miss Ross I thought you were speaking of.” 

“Oh.” Nico shifted uncomfortably on the sofa he occupied in Felix’s suite. “Then, who were you thinking of?” 

“I’d rather not say.” Felix fixed his eyes on his hands. "I don't think she's interested in me, that way." His hands were clasped in front of him- the barest edge of one of his handkerchief’s peeking out from his sleeve. It was a lovely handkerchief, this time with a series of musical notes around the edges. Bridgette had taken the score from the piece he’d been working on for years, he had a whole series of them in which the first bars were embroidered. 

Was that the gift of a woman who had feelings for him? Would he love it more or less if it was? 

He heard Nico’s sigh gusting across the room. “Look, Felix. Maybe this is a bad time for this talk, but you look like you need it.” 

Felix glanced up to see Nico looking as serious as he could, despite the uncomfortable tone he’d started with. 

“There’s no rush. Whatever decision you eventually make, no matter who you decide on, or even if you don’t decide on anyone, it’s a choice you will live with the rest of your life. We tease about romance and young love, and maybe we think you and certain women are a good match, but it’s entirely your choice. And if you weren’t thinking about it before I brought it up today, you should put it aside for now. Your wife will be a helpmeet, a constant companion, your partner for life. It's not a choice to make unless you're absolutely certain.” 

Felix nodded- that seemed, well, wise. Especially given that he had never thought of Bridgette that way before this conversation. 

“Very well. But since we have been talking of romances, how goes your with Miss Alma?” 

Nico spluttered in surprise, causing Felix to grin at him, catlike in his smugness. 

But even as the conversation moved on, part of Felix was still thinking about it. 

_Constant companion, and partner for life_.


	15. Time Passes so Quickly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost there, two chapters to go, almost finished and not going to bed until they're ready. This story will be finished before Halloween ends!

His family had descended upon the Mansion, blown through and for the most part blown out again with almost nothing but memory to mark their passing. 

The household had gained three new members, to assist Felix as his mother faded. To his surprise, it turned out to the Krypte, family was not always blood or legalities. Two of the cousins staying with his weren’t related to him, and one of them wasn’t even the very distant relation of a distant relation. 

His cousin Allegra Krypte had pale blonde hair that contrasted starkly with her tanned skin, with only her pale blue eyes and a musician’s long fingers to mark her commonality with her kin. She was a talented player, who preferred the flute above all. Especially for her illusions. 

Allen Goore couldn’t look less like Felix with his obvious African ancestry. He was technically a cousin, being the son of a stepson of one of his distant Uncles. Allen was of stronger build than he was, built more for athletics than music. He was, as Felix had noticed during the evenings with his family party, a wonderful dancer. Felix had liked him the instance he’d asked Ira for a dance, and the two of them had sent a significant portion of the party into fits of laughter. His mother had nearly spilt her glass of wine, and if not for Bridgette’s timely intervention it would have gone on the floor. 

The final guest was a young magician and spiritualist investigator who had stumbled upon true magic and promptly been shanghaied into the family circle. Claude Mill, known professionally as Claude Minus, bore it well, with a great deal of delight. He’d swiftly won favour with both his parents and Madame Malaura, for his stories and frequent impromptu performances. 

Claude wasn’t around as much as the others, having a career which took him on the road frequently. Allen took the role of dancing master for the village, hosting sessions in which anyone who had time would be taught a simple dance. 

Allegra seemed to have taken Bridgette under her wing, when she wasn’t practicing her own music or performing for Madame’s visitants. 

When he asked why, his cousins had rolled their eyes. 

“She’s family.” Allen told him. “Regardless of who she eventually marries, she’s Malaura’s Bridgette.” 

“Or if she does. Or if you do.” Allegra commented. “Afterall, wedded bliss is not a certainty in life.” 

“But the Krypte aren’t known for settling for second best.” Allen finished, almost like a mantra. 

“We Krypte aren’t known for anything, and we usually like it that way.” Claude pointed out. “But we do tend to get what we want, regardless of whether other people think we should want it or not, or whether they try to stop us getting it.” 

Felix mulled that over. “I always thought Mother got it from Grandmother.” 

Claude grinned like the jack-o-lantern he’d been practicing with for his Halloween show. “Which just means you get it from both sides! Afterall, your grandfather got this place didn’t he? And your grandmother got your mother.” 

Felix shook his head at his cousins. “I thought you’d say she got grandfather.” 

“By all accounts…” Allen began. 

Claude interrupted. “You mean Madame Malaura’s stories.” 

“Your grandparents being together was what Madame wanted. She practically threw them at each other until it stuck.” Said Allen, paying no mind to Claude. “And as your grandparents haven’t left anything to contradict the story, or told anyone otherwise when they come to visit, we’ll have to take Madame’s word for it.” 

\- 

\- 

The months passed too quickly, and as the world grew cold and dark, so too did the Culpa Mansion. Emilie Culpa passed away in the fading days of October, as the leaves fell from the trees to gather on the now barren earth. The house went into immediate mourning, with even the lowliest servant wearing a black band in Emilie’s honour. 

Felix got through her funeral in a blurred daze and could only remember one thing of the day of her death. The image of his father, the demon summoned to protect his mother and her heir _until the end of her natural life_, weeping in a chair, hands clasped to his chest as if holding something infinitely precious and delicate. 

The days began to pass in a blur, one much like the other as he attended to his duties as the new Master of the Estate, despite only being 17. 

If not for Bridgette, he would not have noticed December had begun, even as he wrote the date on all the relevant papers. 

“We are in mourning Bridgette.” He said, uncharacteristically sharp with her. “There will be no Christmas celebrations this year.” 

Bridgette stood her ground, every bit his equal even when they stood in the Master’s office and she wore her black servant’s gown. 

“It need not be a large celebration for the family, but there should be at least a dinner to mark the occasion.” She spoke firmly. 

“There _need not_ be, and there _will not be_. We can celebrate next year, when mourning is lifted.” 

Bridgette wouldn’t back down, they continued arguing- her pleading, him refusing to change his position. 

Finally, tired and frustrated and furious with her request, he snapped. “Why is this important to you?” 

“Because Madame loves Christmas!” She yelled at him, startling them both. She heaved a shaky breath and continued. “She loves Christmas. She’s been talking of nothing but Christmas’s past for weeks now, from when she and her siblings were children, to when she was married, to all the Christmas’s she’s had here. She asked me to write them down for you, so you can have them once she’s gone. And then she looks sad, her eyes go distant and she says she won’t see another Christmas at Krypte House.” 

“Madame isn’t dying.” Felix denied immediately. The thought of losing Madame too was just too awful to contemplate. 

Bridgette looked at him through teary lashes. “She’s 88 years old Felix. She’ll turn 89 on the 19th. She spends almost all her days asleep now, she has to be woken for breakfast and lunch and dinner, and she’ll only stay awake for two hours before she goes to sleep again. The number of spirits in the mansion only decreased slightly once Mrs Emilie passed, and they’re building again.” 

Felix shook his head, refusing it. 

Bridgette’s voice was terribly gentle. “Yesterday she forgot that Syvestra was dead and tried to hand her a shawl for the chill.” 

And that was what shattered his denial. Although most people with magic could see or at least sense the souls of the departed, a simple truth about human magic was that those closer to death could see them more clearly. It was why some mediums favoured illicit substances, often touched with poison, to perform their work. It was why the very ill could often see through the veil more clearly, and why those at the end of their life could see those come to great them. 

He reached for Bridgette and clung to her as they both wept like children. 

\- 

\- 

Madame loved Christmas- and so, the Culpa Mansion would host a marvellous last Christmas for her. 

“Bridgette. I leave the planning of the party to you and Allegra.” Felix said hoarsely. “You can use one of the expense accounts. No cost is too much for Madame. Or for you two, for that matter. See if there’s a singer you can hire, Madame used to love opera and street performer’s equally when she was more mobile.” 

Bridgette nodded seriously. “It will be done.” 

A scant few invitations were sent out to nearby family members and old friends, and the seamstress called. Bridgette, through some miracle, had managed to book the opera singer Laura Gayle to perform for the party, in addition to the usual band and a few ‘friends of the family’. 

It was Kasumi who first approached him about the party, her invitation in hand, when he’d gone to inspect a damaged storefront after some children’s game of catch had veered too close. “Your mother is newly dead, you’re still in deep mourning, and you’re _throwing a party_?” She demanded with a hiss, her horse keeping pace with his. 

“I know it’s not the done thing, but Madame _is_ turning 89.” He said, coolly. “I would hate to disappoint mother by failing to acknowledge such a momentous occasion.” 

Kasumi frowned. “Are you sure this is appropriate?” 

“It will make an old woman happy in her twilight years. I see nothing wrong in inviting family and long-time trusted friends to make such a thing happen, and neither would my mother.” 

Kasumi looked both frustrated at his answer and flattered at him calling her a close friend of the family, so he decided to be frank with her. 

“Is it so awful to wish my great Aunt some joy in her final days?” He asked her. 

Kasumi’s eyes widened in shock. “I hadn’t heard…” 

“Grief excuses many of her symptoms.” Felix said in an undertone. “As does her advanced age. The truth is, we’re not sure she’ll see Spring but we’re hopeful for a last family Christmas.” 

His old friend kindly ignored the moment he took to wipe his tears away, head pointed straight forward as they trotted up to the mansion. 

“So, have you decided your costume?” She said unexpectedly. 

Felix nearly fell from his horse. “_Costume_?” 

Later, he repeated his query to Allegra, whose sigh could have blown over a tower of cards. 

“It’s partly to please Madame Malaura, partly to entice Laura Gayle. Laura Gayle, after all, does not perform for audiences less than 100. Fair enough, a woman in her profession must have standards. But Bridgette managed to persuade her to perform for our little party, in exchange for a performance costume, a photograph and a portrait done of her at our expense.” 

“Photographer?” 

“Arranged by Bridgette, she contacted one of the men who spent the summer here last year and asked him for recommendations for a portrait photographer who could be available for our party. A team of two are coming, with supplies. We’re hoping to get a photograph of Madame, and all of the guests in costume as well.” 

“All thirty of them?” 

“Not individually, we were thinking groups of three. The process does take fifteen minutes after all.” 

Felix decided not to think on the price- he was, after all, the one who’d told them it was no object and he could certainly afford it. “The portrait?” 

Allegra pointed in the general direction of the guest rooms. “We have three artists staying with us at this moment, including a portrait artist and his apprentice who are here as a favour to Bridgette, and also to escape Chloris’s demands.” 

That sounded about right. Bridgette had a knack for befriending the oddest people, he still had no idea how she’d managed to meet and become on friendly terms with Ed Jagger. Of all his cousins, that one was the most chaotic for all that he was also one of the most well-intentioned. 

Felix ran a hand through his hair as he asked the most pressing question of them all. “What should I wear?” 

Allegra, helpful soul she was, just laughed at him and handed him an appointment card for the seamstress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit- Changed Allen's surnname and Claude is no longer a family member but a family friend.


	16. A Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only one more to go, but sadly I must go to bed.

The day of Madame Malaura’s party dawned crisp and clear, no snow on the ground despite the hint of it in the wind. Guests had been arriving for a full week, and the house seemed lighter for it, even as they continued observing deep mourning. 

Felix found himself anxious for the party, which fortunately for him would start early in the day so Madame would be able to retire as early as she wanted. 

Still, even if the party started at three, he had some time to go before then. The first thing he did, once up and dressed, was visit his aunt in her chambers. 

He had almost forgotten what it was like to sit next to his great-aunt’s bed, it had been so long since those awful days after her fall. It had become normal again to enter the room and see her sat in a chair, so it stuck him as bizarre to see her propped up on her pillows. But she smiled at him, eyes shining, and he pushed the thought away to hug her. 

“Happy Birthday Auntie Laura.” He whispered, afraid to hold too tightly. 

“Thank you my dear boy.” She whispered back, and for a moment he was the fourteen-year-old boy she’d spoken to for scaring the servants who’d disrespected her. 

They had a light breakfast together, and he entertained her as best as he could, reading out loud from one of her favourites until she closed her eyes to rest. He then continued reading for his own pleasure, not having read the book in a long while. 

She woke briefly to see him there, and she must have decided it was the time for a talk. “You’ve been thinking a great deal lately my dear boy. Penny for your thoughts?” 

Felix shut the book gently. “I have been. But I’m afraid you’ll have to be a great deal more specific in your questions to get the answer you wish for Madame.” 

“Cheeky boy.” She chortled. “Early in Autumn, before the family arrived, you started acting oddly for a few days. It didn’t last, but I kept catching you looking considering. At your parents, at me, and at a few other people.” 

Felix put the book down altogether, hands clasped on his knees. “I have been considering a matter of great importance. Nico said something, and I can’t get it out of my head.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yes.” Felix lipped his lips. “Whether to make one lady the Mistress of Culpa Mansion.” 

“You’re thinking of the wrong question my dear boy.” Madame said to him. 

“Am I?” He asked, unsure. 

Madame nodded. “You should be thinking, is this the person I want to spend my life with? To build a home with? Perhaps have children with, or travel the world with, or run away and become vaudeville performers together.” 

“Madame!” Felix complained. 

“Hush dear boy, you know what I meant. A true marriage between two people should be one where they both get what they want. I wanted the freedom to travel when I wed my Barty, he wanted someone to take with him. We might have settled down if that lousy crook hadn’t shot him, but it happened and now we’ll never know.” Madame chided him. 

“Your grandparents spent almost a full year dancing around each other before they realised their feelings were mutual, and they enjoyed their life here to the fullest possible extent, even before Emilie was born. You know your mother’s story well enough by now I shouldn’t have to repeat it, but she never met anyone who lived up to her standards right up until she married him! And that wasn’t out of love, that was because she needed to feel safe and he could provide that.” 

“Society won’t be kind to us.” Said Felix. 

“Sounds to me like you’ve made up your mind on the girl. Now, you just need to decide which is more important to you. Society’s opinion, or getting to spend your life with her?” 

Felix didn’t respond to that, so Madame Malaura decided to prod at him again. “You know, Lukasz Couffray was interested in courting Bridgette for a time.” Felix’s eyes fixed on her immediately. “They were dancing around the idea for a good few months, until Emilie started getting sick. Then she started spending almost every spare moment in that room of yours, for when you wanted peace and quiet and company.” 

Felix swallowed. “I didn’t know that.” 

“You didn’t know she knew that.” Madame corrected. She kindly let it rest, and asked him to play for her. She didn’t have a true piano, but the pianoforte in the corner was well tended and he could play it well enough. She drifted back to sleep to the sound of him carefully coaxing music from the old instrument. 

Eventually, he had to leave the room in order to get ready for the party. 

“Who am I to be this evening?” He asked, taking the swathes of black fabric out of the box Allegra handed to him. 

“You’ll see.” Allegra told him. “Your crown is on your dressing table.” 

Felix entered the banquet room as Hades, King of the Underworld, with a sceptre in hand and bone keys at his belt. His crown was pale wood carved so that it looked like bone, which made him wonder who had ordered it and why. He doubted it could have been done on a rush order, no matter how much money the craftsman had been offered. The keys he had checked with a quick spell, and found them to be carved cattle bone, to his great relief. Knowing his grandfather had once used necromancy to move the remains in various graves from churchyard to churchyard as completely and cleanly as possible had made him a bit leery of items made of bone, especially ones handed to him by a Krypte. 

Madame Malaura was dressed as some sort of Oracle, although he doubted any Oracle in Ancient Greece had worn so much golden fabric, crimson suns emblazoned across it or not. The crown she wore was a simple coronet of bronze, one he recalled her telling him had been a gift from her Barty when they were courting and had a costume party to attend. Her chair had not escaped redecoration, some excess fabric had been hastily sewn in place to give the impression of a grand throne. 

“You look stunning Madame.” He smiled, bending down for a kiss. 

“You should see Allegra.” She said wryly. 

He was about to ask why when Allegra spoke from behind him, agreeing with Madame. 

He turned around- and nearly jumped out of his skin, causing laughter to break out. 

“Where on this green earth did you get _that_?” He demanded, eyeing it warily. ‘That’, was the downright disturbing Medusa mask Allegra wore, complete with false snakes for hair. 

“A lady must have her secrets cousin.” Allegra teased. “But I will admit Claude helped a great deal.” 

Claude shouted at her in mock outrage, but Felix didn’t notice. Brigette had entered his vision- and What a _vision_ she was. Silk flowers carefully arranged in her hair, almost forming a tiara. Persephone tread the floors of Culpa Mansion, in pale silks trimmed with flowers of a dozen shades of pink.

Madame caught his eye and winked, toasting him with her empty glass. 

Bridgette quickly moved forward to take it. “What would you like to drink Madame?” 

Just as neatly, Claude took it from her. “I’ll fetch it. The women who had to organise this shindig should get to enjoy it.” 

Bridgette tried to protest, so Felix took her arm and gently pulled her over to greet Kasumi, whose dress was fashioned after armour. 

“You look amazing.” Bridgette told her, painfully sincere. 

“As do you. Hades and Persephone?” Kasumi asked, eyes twinkling. 

_She knew_, Felix realised. How many other people knew? 

He disregarded it as Bridgette stumbled her way through an explanation. “No, not at all. I think Claude said I was a flower nymph?” 

Kasumi nodded solemnly, but Felix could feel her stare digging into his back as he parted ways with the ladies. 

He could safely assume she would approve, if he chose to ask Bridgette to court him. 

The day passed, full of laughter and teasing banter between his close family and slightly more distant family and friends. It wasn’t until he caught sight of his father, alone in a corner, that he remembered this celebration was technically in direct defiance of their mourning. 

Ira was beside him in a moment, gently guiding his son to the side where they could talk. “Your mother would not begrudge you any moment of happiness Felix.” 

Embarrassingly for a man of seventeen, Felix found his eyes welling up and frantically patted his robes to find a handkerchief. His father pressed one into his hand. 

“Thanks.” Felix mumbled, pressing it to his eyes. When his vision was clear he could see the I C his mother had designed for his father’s handkerchiefs, the bottom of the I just hinting at a tail, to those in the know. 

“Your mother stitched the first one of those when she was pregnant with you.” Ira told him. “I still have it, after all these years. It took me years to understand why that one was so important to me, when she provided me with dozens upon of dozens of them over time.” 

“I’m sorry…” 

“Don’t be. That’s one of the ones she asked the seamstresses to initial. The original is kept safe. And if you’re trying to apologise for crying, don’t. You are allowed to grieve.” 

“We’re in mourning.” Felix said quietly. “And we’re having a party.” 

“For Madame. Mourning in this time and place is something you do, to show everyone that you have the wealth and means to mourn _properly_, according to society’s rule. It depends on your dress and your habits, and not at all on your grief." 

"Grieving is when you see something and know they’d like it but remember you can’t show them. Grieving is smelling her favourite tea and feeling your stomach churn, because she can’t enjoy it anymore. Grieving is dozens of experiences stretching across your lifetime, because even should you live to be older than Malaura you will still have days when you think of your mother and _miss_ her.” Ira’s voice lowered. “And it’s okay to grieve. It’s also okay to enjoy yourself and move on with your life, even though she isn’t here.” 

That made three people who knew, Felix thought with a somewhat watery snort. “Et tu, father?” 

“I blame myself for this. You take after me too much for your own good.” Ira grinned at him, and Felix couldn’t help but whack his father in the shoulder. 

He looked around and caught Bridgette’s eyes. She raised a brow, questioning if they were okay. Felix did his best to smile at her. He must have been somewhat successful, as she nodded, reassured. 

“Two years.” Ira sighed beside him. “Sometimes I can’t believe it’s been two years.” 

The rest of the party passed mostly without incident. Most people were photographed twice, Felix sat with both Madame and Bridgette, and another sitting with his father. Laura Gayle proved herself well worth the effort of hiring her, leaving the room entirely spellbound with her performances of the Magic Flute and Casta Diva, dressed as fairest Titania. 

The only sour point was when someone suggested he give a speech. 

Trapped by the well wishes of what was suddenly far too many family members, Felix sought Bridgette’s eyes in the crowd to find her gazing back steadily. There was faith in her eyes, for all that she cocked a cheeky brow at him. _You’re not getting scared, are you Felix Culpa?_

Felix set his shoulders back and looked around the room. These were his family. They were all here for Madame Malaura, they all wanted good memories of this day to take with them. 

“Thank you all for coming, especially with the short notice.” He began, a smile forming without true thought. “We weren’t going to do anything this big, but then someone very special reminded me that Madame Malaura loved Christmas, and as we all know, Madame Malaura’s happiness has been essential to all the inhabitants of Krypte House for a very long time.” 

Titters broke out through the crowd and Felix relaxed further. His eyes caught on Bridgette in the crowd, and he found himself thinking _I don’t want to do this without you._

He pushed on. “It’s been a wonderful day, even if I was very surprised by the costumes. My own included in that, I’m not just referring to Allegra’s delightful mask. I hope you’ve all enjoyed yourselves just as much as I have, and that your costumes were photographed to best advantage by our kind photographers. I wish to thank everyone who chose to take a turn in entertaining us, with special thanks to Laura Gayle whose performance and dress were equally spellbinding. Dinner will be served shortly, and I hope you all find one of your favourites.” 

“Bridgette worked herself into exhaustion over that dress.” Allegra confided in him quietly. “The seamstress and the boutique we used we already overwhelmed with the other orders.” 

“And her own dress?” Felix asked, taking Allegra’s arm and escorting her to his aunt’s side. 

“I take full credit for that.” Allen murmured from where he was suddenly beside him. “She was so busy with Laura’s dress she forgot about her own. I think she was planning to wear a black dress and call herself a witch.” 

“Then I must give you my thanks.” Felix said quietly. “For what would Hades be without Persephone?” 

Allen looked at him in startlement, while Madame whooped with laughter at his side. 

“You’re right Madame. It appears I have made my decision.” He spoke more openly, attempting to straighten his crown. 

“It appears to be a good one.” Malaura said warmly. “And I hope it brings you much happiness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 23 March 2020. Mostly I've just cleaned up typos and a few sentences I thought were a bit clunky, but I also changed Lara Gayle's performance from La Llorona to the Arias The Magic Flute, by Mozart, and Casta Diva by Bellini. Both of which were written decades before this scene was set, and are still well known today.  
Also, I looked up the translations too. Bit out of context, but from the Magic Flute-  
Hell's Vengeance Boils in My Heart,  
Death and despair flames around me!  
And from Casta Diva  
My voice thunders  
I will punish him I can


	17. Confessions

That evening, as the party had drawn to a natural end as the children and a few others retired early, Felix stood in the hidden room he’d spent so many hours in, waiting. Having decided on his course of action, he’d asked Bridgette to meet him there as soon as she could. 

He wasn’t left waiting long. 

Felix welcomed her with a smile. “Thank you for coming Bridgette.” 

“You said you need to talk with me. It sounded important.” Bridgette replied, stepping forward until she was right in front of him. “What’s that?” 

Felix put a hand on the box resting on the piano. “It was meant to be your Christmas present, but I felt you should have it tonight. You’ve been amazing these past few weeks, rising up and above anything I could have asked of you as your friend.” 

“Felix…” 

“Please, Bridgette. I want to see what you think of it.” 

Humouring him, Bridgette opened the box to find a small box, shaped like a piano. She glanced up at him, confused. Smiling, he gestured for her to open it. 

She opened it to see it was intended for sewing supplies, with indentations in the lining for her scissors and various accoutrements. 

She barely breathed, matching the empty places to the supplies Felix had been gifting her over the past few months. “This is amazing Felix. How did you even find something like this?” 

“I’m afraid you give me too much credit. I had it commissioned. The piano is modelled after the one is this room, and the gentleman kindly measured the supplies I had already bought to ensure the fit.” Felix informed her, delighting in how her eyes turned wide. “And there’s one more surprise, you’ve almost found it.” 

She turned back to the sewing box, exploring with her fingers as much as her eyes. It didn’t take her long to find the mechanism hidden by the keys. “A music box?” She said to herself, before finding how to activate it. 

A familiar tune filled the air between them. 

“It’s your song!” Bridgette realised. 

“No.” Felix corrected with a fond smile. “It’s your song. You were the inspiration for it, and you have been by my side these past years as I’ve written it and practiced it and rewritten it. It’s your song now Bridgette, and I merely the writer.” 

Bridgette stared at him- stunned. And perhaps he was hoping too much himself but perhaps the look of wistful hope in her eyes was for the same thing he wished for. In any case, it gave him the courage to forge forward. 

“And I hope you will be by my side for many years more.” He said, almost cautiously. “As a friend, as a beloved member of my family, as a treasure of the Culpa Mansion.” 

“And perhaps one day, as my wife.” 

Bridgette gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “Felix?” She whispered. 

A burst of courage made him reckless. “I want to court you Bridgette. I want to convince you to marry me and spend a lifetime together.” 

Sparks of magic appeared at her hand, checking something. “This is real?” Bridgette half laughed. “You really want to marry me?” 

There was no other answer to that. “Yes. As soon as can be done.” 

Bridgette smile was like sun breaking through cloud break. “I believe long courtships are traditional in your family.” 

“There have been exceptions!” 

“In emergencies Felix.” Bridgette pointed out, gently mocking. 

Felix pouted to make her laugh. “If you look back, we’ve been courting since we were fourteen! Three years is a very long courtship!” 

He was successful, and her peals of laughter rang into the night. 

\-- 

It had to be said, a number of people were unhappy when it was quietly put about that the young Master of Culpa Mansion had decided to formally enter courtship with his aunt’s companion (_a servant_ various busybodies hissed in horror) less than three months after his mother’s death. 

But the people who were most important to them were overjoyed. Ira gave Felix a hearty clap on the back and his sincere blessing, and went to warmly welcome Brigette to the family as if they were already wed. 

Madame Malaura was genuinely delighted, beaming brightly whenever either of them were in the room with her and happily sharing all the stories of all the married couples she’d ever known. Several members of the family were pressed into acting as scribes so Bridgette wouldn’t be forced to write them all down on her own, as it turned out Madame Malaura had known a great many married couples in her almost nine decades of life. 

His cousins all congratulated them, with a distinct undertone of ‘about time’. 

Their joy was not wholly untainted however. 

Their friends and neighbours were stunned, apparently having imagined him to be entangled with Miss Ross, whose family had since left the area for the Winter . 

And then came that dreaded day that Madame Malaura was found to have slipped away in the night, sat upright in her chair in the spirit room. The spirits within, herself included, having long departed. 

In her will she left the majority of her personal fortune and personal effects to Bridgette, to be distributed as Bridgette saw fit. Her funeral was a much attended occasion, putting the Christmas Party to shame despite the terrible January weather. 

Even with the loss of Madame, who had been beloved grandmother and corrupting influence in the Culpa Mansion for as long as either Felix or Bridgette had been alive, they were happy. 

Life wasn’t perfect, with almost a full year of mourning still ahead of them before they could have the wedding they wanted, and Ira’s stated intentions to leave the mansion when his son turned 18. 

However, they were young, in love, with their whole lives laid before them and so they decided to wait a further nine months to marry. A Summer wedding, when they were both 18 years of age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not happy with this, but it has to end sometime right? Anything else I wanted to put in here will have to go in Side Stories once I've got it all written, if I can't fit it in the main Fic.  
Happy Halloween!

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the Prequel- the betrayals etc will be in a separate story. And hopefully the actual story, once I've got that written. (Haven't started yet- six days before Halloween. Oops?)


End file.
